Last Beautiful Girl
by meggee
Summary: Trapped in an abusive, controlling relationship, Bella Swan believes there is no way out. . .until she meets someone who shows her she deserves so much more than she ever thought.
1. A Better Man

I do not own anything pertaining to _Twilight. _Please let me know what you think.

**WARNING: **This story will contain some pretty intense scenes, that will include violence.

**Chapter One - A Better Man**

He was the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen. He was the most beautiful boy most people had ever seen.

I was never anything special. Just a girl, existing. Going through everyday, wondering which one would be my last. Knowing that the end was inevitable. Certain. I took every hit, every blow wondering which one would be my last.

And then my secret would be out there, exposed for all the world to see. And then they would see: I wasn't this quiet-natured girl, this studious type, with the perfect grades and the perfect boyfriend. They would remove my clothes, piece by piece, and they would know.

My mother would come to identify my body, but she wouldn't see her little girl. She would see rainbows of bruises. Rivers of cuts. Scars that had once been carefully concealed by long sleeves and jackets. She would never see the worst, however, because the worst was on the inside. On the soul.

But just as the lights were about to go out, just before my curtain fell, he saved me.

The beautiful boy. He saw my soul before everyone else saw the bruises.

I'm getting ahead of myself, however. Because to understand the end, you have to start from the beginning.

**6 MONTHS EARLIER. . .**

"Are you going to the game tonight?" Angela's voice brought me out of my thoughts, her hand waving in front of my face. "Earth to Bella."

I shake my head, cringing at the slight pain that shoots through my neck as I do so. My hair, perfectly coiffed to hide the fingerprints, boldly imprinted at the nape.

"I can't, I already told Jacob I'd go with him to some party on the reservation," I say, pulling my sweater sleeves farther down my arms.

She sighs, leaning back in her seat as Mr. Parker continues on lecturing about Biology at the front of the classroom. I think she's accepted my answer when she turns back to me.

"You two are attached at the hip," She pouts. "I never get to see you anymore. Ever since you started dating him, you never hang out with us."

I give her an apologetic smile, not sure what to say. She's right though. I haven't been out with my friends in months. Haven't gone to see a movie, haven't drank a milkshake at the diner. I haven't really done anything on my own since they day I met Jacob.

"_Bella, that guy at the counter is totally checking you out!" Jessica squealed, from her spot next to me in the diner booth._

_I casually glanced over to see a tall, dark boy staring into my eyes. A smile slowly spread across his face, my own quickly mimicking. I looked away, my face turning the brightest shade of red._

"_He was not, Jess," I said, sneaking another glance at him. "He was probably looking at one of you."_

_No guy ever paid attention to me. Not in my 17 years of existence. I was just a boring girl, living a mundane life, in the tiny town of Forks, Washington. I had known most of the males in my circle since the age of five. They had seen me through bad haircuts, braces and a horrible phase in which I thought it was fashionable to wear any and every shade of pink you could imagine. _

"_He looks like he's from the Reservation," Angela stated, slurping down the remnants of her vanilla shake. _

"_Yeah, he's got that whole tall, dark and mysterious thing going on," Jessica adds. _

_I can't help but bring my eyes back to him. His black hair is cut short, unlike a lot of the other Reservation boys who wear it long. His skin looks like he'd been lying out in the sun all day, despite that fact that it was mid-October. He was adorable. And he was looking directly back at me. _

"_Oh my god, he's coming over," I hissed, burying my face into a menu._

_We all got quiet as he approached, the sound of his shoes made a sloshing noise on the floor-the soundtrack of living in a town where it was perpetually raining. _

"_Ladies," He started. _

_I glanced up, praying that all redness was gone from my cheeks. _

"_Hi, I'm Jessica!" She shoved her hand out, always the over-friendly type._

"_I'm Jacob Black," He responded, turning towards me._

"_Bella," I stuttered. "Is my name. Bella."_

_This evokes a laugh from the whole table, which only furthers my humiliation. _

"_Bella." He repeated, smiling._

After that, we became quick friends. At first we'd all meet at the diner, he'd bring his friends and I'd bring mine. Eventually, it dwindled down to just the two of us. Eventually, it turned into dates. Eventually, it turned into a relationship. Eventually it turned into a nightmare. One I couldn't escape.

For the first two months, Jacob was perfect. Looking back, I should've realized he was too perfect. He opened doors for me, called me every night to tell me to sleep tight. My father loved him, my mother adored him. All the girls at school were envious, that somehow boring Bella Swan had landed this amazing, wonderful guy. I could see the questions in their eyes everyday after school, when Jacob came to pick me up in his VW Rabbit. All of them wondering, _why her?_

I was falling hopelessly, utterly in love with him. I was picturing a wedding, a house, kids. All the things that young girls dream of, before they are hit with the understanding that the real world really sucks. It was at the beginning of month three when I was hit by it. . .figuratively and literally.

_Jacob's mother had left him and his father when he was ten. Although Jacob rarely ever spoke of her leaving, I had gathered enough to know that Billy Black was an abusive alcoholic who showed no mercy on Jacob or his mother. She left in the dead of night, taking with her one suitcase and leaving behind one son. _

_It was late for a school night, but I hadn't seen or spoken to Jacob all day and I was worried. He wasn't returning my phone calls or texts. He didn't show up to pick me up from school. I waited for almost an hour, Eric Yorkie staying behind to entertain me and work on our joint English report, as we sat on the school steps. He never showed. _

"_Hello?" I knocked loudly on the door, with still no answer._

_I hesitantly let myself into the Black home. Jacob hardly ever brought me here, instead preferring to hang out at my house, with my family. There were no lights on, so I carefully made my way in the direction of Jacob's bedroom. I was afraid that I'd run into Billy, despite the fact that his truck wasn't parked outside. Jacob's sparse stories about him were enough to terrify me. _

_I heard a noise coming from Jacob's room. I followed it, seeing light seeping out of the bottom of the doorframe. _

"_Jacob?" I whispered, hoping he'd hear._

_Nothing._

"_Jacob?" Slightly louder this time. _

_Nothing._

_I slowly grasp the knob, turning it every so carefully. I pushed open the door to find Jacob, sitting on his bed, staring out the window while muttering under his breath. I inched closer, still unsure if he had heard me enter the room._

"_Jake. . ." I said, in a sing-song voice. _

_He hated when I called him that, but I thought my teasing might lighten the mood I had intensely felt upon entering the room. _

_His eyes shot up at me, they were black and fierce._

"_What are you doing here?" His tone was not one I recognized. _

_I instinctively took a step back, surprising myself as a feeling of fear crept in. _This is Jacob, _I had told myself, _I have nothing to be afraid of.

"_You never came to pick me up today and you weren't returning any of my calls," I started. "I was worried." _

_He stood up, his body looking more intimidating than I had ever remembered.._

"_I came to pick you up, but you were so busy trying to get into some guy's pants that you didn't notice me." He spat. _

"_What?" I laughed, sure he was joking. _

_He turned away from me and it was then that I noticed a small bruise on his right cheekbone. I reached to comfort him._

"_Your face. . ." I said, as he shoved my hand away._

"_Don't try to change the subject," His voice venomous. _

He's just upset,_ I told myself. _He got into another fight with Billy and is upset.

"_What are you talking about?" _

"_You were sitting on the steps, talking to some asshole after school. You were practically all over him." _

_I laughed at the sheer and utter ridiculousness of his comments. _

"_You think it's funny? Me seeing you with another guy?" He said, stepping closer._

"_Jacob, he's just a friend. We're working on an English project together," I replied, feeling the tension ease as I explained myself. _

_Just a simple misunderstanding. _

_I still felt the punch across my face long after it had actually happened. I was so surprised, I didn't react. I just stood there, hand on cheek, trying to see his face through the cloud of black that was now hovering over my eyes. _

_He instantly began apologizing. Telling me he loved me, telling me it was an accident, telling me was sorry. _

_I'd always dreamed of hearing the words "I love you" from a man. But in my dream, it wasn't right after he had punched me in the face. _

_There were no more punches or hits for several weeks. I began to relax. The bruise had healed up and after a story of my forever clumsy self tripping and falling on the sidewalk, no one was ever the wiser for the true source of my injury. _

_Then slowly, almost deliberately, they began. Once every two weeks, then once a week, then once a day. I never knew when they would come, but I knew they were coming. I could've left him, but I didn't._

_Any love at all is better than nothing. _


	2. A Lack of Color

I do not own anything _Twilight-_related.

Once again, this story does contain intense and violent scenes. Let me know what you think please.

**Chapter 2**** - A Lack of Color**

I've never ventured very far outside of Forks. Both of my parents were raised here, and their parents were raised here and so on. The Swans are a pretty static bunch. My father has been the Chief of Police for almost fifteen years, my mother has worked part-time at a bookstore for as long as I can remember. We have dinner every night together at six, brunch on Sundays. Nothing exciting ever happened here. Everyday was basically the same cold, rainy, miserable monotony.

"Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep."

I groan, slamming my hand over my alarm clock to end the incessant beeping. I can hear the rain pelting against the window. Another Friday in Forks.

"Bella, honey. You awake?" My mother's voice comes through the door.

"Yeah," I croak, clearing my throat.

I hear her feet pad off, heading downstairs to start the coffeemaker and begin making my dad's breakfast.

It must be 7:03.

I throw the covers off the bed, grimacing as the cold hits me. I quickly pull on my terrycloth brown robe, hugging my arms around myself in an attempt to retain some body heat. After a quick trip to the bathroom to brush my teeth, I hurry back to my room, locking the door behind me. I discard the robe, then the thin pair of sleep shorts and t-shirt I always wear to bed. I hesitantly stand in front of my full-length mirror, completely nude. It's time for my daily body assessment.

I stare at myself, looking at the bruises that riddle my body. Some darker than others, some not even fully formed yet. The newest one is a circular handprint, encasing my upper-arm. Nothing had been there just hours earlier, but I knew enough to know that sometimes it takes a while for the evidence to show.

_Jacob had two personality settings: Prince Charming, the one the outside world knew. Then there was "Jake". That's what I called the personality only I see, the one no one would believe me existed. Jacob was the most wonderful man I'd ever met, Jake was the scariest. _

"_Bella, you coming?" Jessica's voice called to me from across the school parking lot. _

_I looked over at her, surrounded by the rest of our friends. She looked so happy, so beautiful, so untouched. I envied her more than she would ever know. _

"_Where are you guys going?" I asked, even though I already knew I wouldn't be joining._

"_Mike's parents are out of town, we're all heading over to have a few drinks," She beamed. "You know, start the weekend early."_

_I smiled sadly at her. I would give anything to drop my backpack and run towards her car, go drinking at Mike's and act like the seventeen year old girl I knew was in me somewhere._

"_I can't," I started. "Jacob will be here to pick me up any second. I told him I'd help him with his English assignment."_

"_Invite him!" She yelled back, like it was really that simple. _

_I shrugged, giving her my patented "Not gonna happen, but thanks" look that I'm sure she was all but use to at this point. She just nodded, understanding, and disappeared into her car. I turned my attention towards the road. Jacob showed up in his Rabbit everyday at 2:45 p.m., in the same spot right by the willow tree. I was out here by 2:35 p.m. everyday. I knew the consequences of being late._

_I heard his car before I saw it. That quiet, but distinct rumbling sound that sent shivers down my spine every time I heard it. I could see him, behind the driver's wheel. I couldn't read his expression, didn't know who was doing the driving: Jacob or Jake. I opened the door, letting myself in._

"_Hey gorgeous," He said cheerfully, kissing my cheek. _

_The crushing weight that had been on my shoulders all afternoon lifted. _

_It was Jacob._

"_Hey you." I smiled back, snuggling into him. _

_When it was good, it was so good. It was worth every hit, the unconditional love I felt from him when he was himself. He was warm, so warm. He could make me feel like I was the most special girl in the entire world. _

"_You hungry?" He asked, pulling away from the curb. _

"_Starving," I replied. _

_It was a good day. I could relax, I could breath. There would be no new bruises tomorrow morning. _

_We pulled into a small diner close to the Reservation. We never ate at places in town, where we might run into someone I knew. I always insisted to Jacob that we eat here because I loved the food, but in reality I was afraid of running into someone and it somehow provoking him. It wouldn't be the first time. _

"_You just wanna split a burger?" He asked, wrapping his arm around my shoulder as we slid into the booth. _

"_That sounds wonderful," I said, so happy at the calm that was between us, even if just for a few hours. _

_While we waited on our food, Jacob pulled out his copy of 'Hamlet', along with some notes he had taken during class. We sprawled them out over the table, his erratic handwriting hard for me to read. _

"_Mr. Walters wants us to write some bullshit analysis on symbolism or something," He started. "Who understands this stuff anyway? It's hundreds of years old, why are we still reading it?"_

_I inwardly groaned. I love Shakespeare, could read him all day. Jacob's whining was that of someone who didn't even put forth the least bit effort into understanding the genius before him. It was the predictable complaining of adolescent boys everywhere. _

_I didn't say this to him, of course. _

"_Well, it is a hard read and the language can be a little confusing," I sympathized. "It helps if you just break it down, scene-by-scene." _

_Thirty minutes and one burger later, I could sense Jacob's ever-growing frustration. He wasn't getting anything I was explaining to him and I was trying my hardest to not sound condescending or overly-knowledgeable in the slightest. _

"_This is so stupid," He growled, slamming his book shut. "None of this makes sense."_

"_Come on babe," I said, reassuringly. "It's not that hard. You just have to be patient. It'll click."_

_I could see him swallow hard, clearly annoyed with me. I knew I needed to back off, that his frustration coupled with my insistence would ultimately lead me down a very painful path. I took a long sip from my glass of water, hoping the silence would allow him to collect himself._

"_Why do you do that?" He asked suddenly, his voice completely calm and even._

"_What?" I asked, genuinely surprised. _

"_You always say small, backhanded comments like that," He said. "It's like you think you're so much smarter than I am."_

_I could feel the weight from earlier pressing back onto my shoulders. He was angry about his assignment, but I knew I would be the one who felt the brunt of his rage. _

"_That's not what I meant," I plead quietly, hoping to not draw any attention to us. "I don't think I'm smarter than you at all."_

_He laughed, but not in a way that was humorous, as he reopened his book. For a moment, I thought I was safe. That the situation had blown over and his anger was temporary. For a moment, I let myself relax._

"_Fuck it," He said. _

_He shoved all of the papers back into his book bag, zipping it and throwing it over to the seats across from us. _

"_I don't even care anymore," He sucked down the rest of his Coke. "If Walters wants to flunk me for not getting some dumbass play from some old, dead guy, then let him."_

_Before I knew what was happening, the words just started flowing out of my mouth before I could stop myself._

"_It's not some 'dumbass play', it's a classic. Just because you don't understand it doesn't make it stupid. You're not putting in any effort to get it, you're just hoping for an easy way out."_

_We both froze, unable to believe that I had just spoken those words. I don't know what had come over me in those few seconds, but it was as though something in me had snapped. _

_I felt his hand wrap around my forearm. It felt like a vice grip, closing tighter and tighter, until I thought he would break it in half. I bit back a cry, not wanting anyone to see what was going on. _

"_Lets go," He said._

_We slid out of the booth. He paid the bill. He picked up his backpack. Somehow, though, his grip never left my arm. I was biting my lip so hard in pain, I was sure there was blood dripping down my chin._

_We exited the diner, walking towards the car._

"_Get in," He spat, shoving me against the car._

_My hipbone slammed into the door handle, as the rain started falling from the sky. I clamored to get in as fast as I could, afraid to piss him off anymore. I barely got my seatbelt on before my head was pushed up against the window._

"_Does that make you feel better, huh?" His face was so close to mine, I could feel his breath on my cheek. "Making me look like an idiot in front of all those people?"_

"_No," I sobbed. _

_He released my head, settling back into his seat. I thought maybe that was it, that was all there was. I looked over at him, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were the palest shade of white. I rubbed my arm where his fingers had been just moments earlier, trying to rub away the intense throbbing. _

"_Jacob," I started. _

_Before I could finish, my head was slammed against the window so hard I thought I was going to black out. My eyes filled with darkness, and for a moment I thought, this was it. This was the end of my life. The blackness would surround me and I wouldn't find my way back this time. _

I push my hair back, revealing a deep gash along the hairline and creeping down my forehead. It was bright red and purple, despite the fact that I had scrubbed all of the blood off last night in the shower. I brush my hair over my face, hoping it will cover any and all evidence.

I didn't die last night. Didn't take my last breath. Didn't feel myself exit my body.

So now came the aftermath. The damage control. I layer up: baggy jeans, t-shirt, hoodie. Anything that will cover up the hurt, anything that will take any and all sense of femininity away. The last thing I needed to deal with was attracting attention to myself. That would lead to questions and I can't handle the questions right now. Make-up does the rest of the work, covering up any lingering traces that my hair doesn't conceal.

I give myself a once-over in the mirror, satisfied with what I see, then make my way downstairs. In the kitchen, my father is sitting at the table, cup of coffee in one hand and newspaper in the other. My mother is poised next to the sink, staring out the kitchen window as she sips on her own cup of coffee. They both notice my entrance.

"Hey sweetie," Dad says, smiling up at me.

"Hey," I reply, slipping into the chair across from him.

"We didn't get to say goodnight yesterday, you just kind of came home and ran upstairs," Mom sets a plate of food down in front of me, ruffling my hair as she does.

"Mom," I groan, quickly fixing my hair before either of them can see the gash.

"What? I miss my baby," She replies.

"Sorry, I was just so tired. School has been really crazy, with mid-terms coming up," It's not a total lie. "I've been spending a lot of time studying and just really trying to focus."

_Also, I thought you might get a bit suspicious if I came home and you saw blood pouring out of my head, _I add silently.

"That's my girl," Dad says proudly. "Harvard and Yale are going to come calling any day now."

I laugh, not because I don't believe him (which I don't), but because I don't think I'll actually make it to graduation day. If I don't receive the final crippling blow by then, than the stress and constant state of terror I live in will do the job.

There's a honk outside, signaling the arrival of Jacob. He insists on not just picking me up from school everyday, but dropping me off. I think it's a bit unnecessary, it's way out of his way to do it but I know he just wants to spend as much time with me as he can.

I excuse myself from the table, waving goodbye to my parents. I walk outside, hearing the rumble of the Rabbit as I approach the car. I open the door to see a dozen red roses sitting on my seat.

Jacob's apology.

"Hey gorgeous," He smiles, as I sit, placing the roses in my lap.

I paste my own smile on. He never actually says the words "_I'm sorry", _but uses flowers or cards or gifts to do that for him.

"Hey you," I kiss his cheek.

"You look wonderful today," He always compliments me the day after.

He's always perfect the day after.

"Thanks," My smile genuine this time. "You don't look too shabby yourself."

He laughs, pulling onto the road and heading in the direction towards Forks High. He goes to school on the Reservation, but they don't start until an hour after "the pale faces", as he calls us. He places his hand on my knee and I close my eyes, enjoying the ten minute drive. The radio plays a Death Cab for Cutie song and for a moment, I feel like that seventeen year old I know is in me somewhere.

"_This is fact not fiction, for the first time in years," _I sing along.

"You know this song?" Jacob asks.

"Yeah, it's Death Cab," I respond.

"You and your emo music," He just laughs, pulling into the school lot.

He takes his usual spot by the willow tree, cutting the engine before turning to me. He just looks at me for a second, before running his fingers through my hair. I inhale sharply as he touches the gash. He looks pained for a moment, the way his face always looks when he realizes what he's done.

"I'll see you after school?"

It's a question instead of a statement, as if he's not sure I still want to be with him. As if I really have a choice. No one loves me like he does, no one understand me like he does. Nothing will ever come between us, except my own, inevitable death because he loves me too much.

"Of course, baby," I lean in to kiss him on the lips.

The walk to my locker is filled with whispers. At first I panic, thinking they're all whispering about me. That someone saw Jacob and I in the car, my head pressed against the window as the rain poured down. That thought is quickly erased when I hear the words "new students" as I approach my locker.

Angela's locker is right next to mine, which is usually the only time of day her and I actually get a good conversation in anymore. She's standing next to Mike Newton, clearly in the middle of a gossipy conversation.

"What's going on?" I ask, opening my locker.

"So apparently, there are some new students here today and naturally, everyone has to make a big deal out of it," Mike says, as though he isn't just as interested in the news as everyone else.

"Oh come on, Mike," Angela slaps his shoulder. "Don't act like you aren't just as curious as the rest of us."

"What's the story?" I turn towards the two of them, after managing to cram all of my books into my locker.

"Well, from what I gather, it's two boys and one girl," Angela says. "Last name is Cullen. Moved here from Chicago. Their dad is the new doctor at Forks Hospital, mother is some type of interior designer."

"Are you a stalker now?" I joke.

"What? I'm only repeating what I've heard," She says. "It's not like I've been planted outside of the bushes of their house, which happens to be the old Weston mansion out off Route 12."

Mike and I exchange glances.

"What?" She laughs.

The bell rings, signaling we have five minutes before first period starts. Mike and Angela go their separate ways as I hang back. I want to make one last trip to the bathroom to make sure my make-up is still doing its job. I wait until the halls are empty before heading in the direction of the bathroom. I'm always late to my first period class because of my daily morning trek to the bathroom for a final once-over, but I've always been a straight A student, so none of my teachers really bother me much about being late.

Forks High is an old building, the town not having much in the way of a budget to repair the slowly decaying structure. Most of us have been here long enough to know which drinking fountains don't work, which lunch tables are lopsided, which door handles are most likely to fall off in your hand.

The bathrooms are no different. Long gone are the signs that actually differentiate between "Men" and "Women", but we all know that Men go to the left, Women to the right. It's like a right of passage to every freshman to inadvertently walk into the wrong one. That's usually a mistake you only make the one time. I still remember my own, at the age of fourteen, walking into the Men's restroom by the gym. It was the first time I'd ever seen a penis. To say that I was traumatized is an understatement. Mom had to give me the sex talk immediately after school that day.

I walk up to the mirror, setting down my backpack on the counter. I grab the hair tie that's around my wrist, pulling my hair back into a loose ponytail. The gash along my hairline is practically glowing. I guess somewhere in between my house and school, the rain had washed off my pitiful attempted at using concealer to cover the bruise.

"Jesus," I whisper to myself, staring at myself in the mirror.

I wonder if everyone else sees what I see when they look at me. The dark circles under my eyes. The slightly swollen bottom lip, from my own biting of it. The hollowness of my cheeks, due to a lack of appetite from the constant stress. And then, most clearly, the shocking purple and red on the top right-hand side of my forehead.

I stare at it, willing it to go away. It looks like it's going to get bigger before it heals.

"Who are you?" I ask myself. "How did you let this happen?"

Suddenly I hear a throat clearing behind me. I spin around to come face to face with the intruder.

His hair is a pile of messy, bronze colored brilliance. His eyes, green, staring at me with a look of absolute confusion. He doesn't speak, just looks at me. I feel his eyes, starting at my feet, up my legs, up my torso and landing on the gash.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My hand slowly comes up over the wound, covering it as though it will make his memory of it completely disappear.

We stare at each other for what seems like hours, but is probably only seconds. And then he is gone, so quickly that it's as if he was never there to begin with.

I turn back to the mirror, pulling my hair out of the ponytail.

_He didn't see anything, _I tell myself. _And even if he did, he would never even guess where it really came from._

I rub a new layer of concealer over my face, coloring over the gash as best I can. By the time I'm done, I almost look human.

I almost look like me.


	3. The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows

I own nothing. I appreciate all feedback, thanks.

**Chapter 3**** - The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows**

Biology follows Spanish like night follows day.

I grab my usual seat in the back of the room; not only does it let me observe everyone else but it also keeps everyone else from observing me. I use to sit in the front. I use to crack jokes in the middle of class. I use to do a lot of things_. _Not anymore, though. No more sports, no more extracurricular activities. I told my parents I wanted to focus more on schoolwork, but the reality was that Jacob saw them as an excuse to not hang out with him.

So I quit.

"Have you seen the new kids?" Lauren whispers to Angela as Mr. Parker writes out today's assignment on the board.

I pretend I'm not listening.

"I have English with the girl, Alice I think is her name," Angela answers.

"You haven't seen the boys yet, then?" Lauren's eyebrows raise, always the nosy one.

"No, have you?"

"I saw one of them. Emmett," Lauren starts. "Huge guy, probably played football at his last school. Super hot though."

I copy down the notes from the board, still keeping my ear on their conversation as I write.

"I heard the other one is cute too, but looks totally different. Apparently they're all adopted, which is why they're all around the same age," Angela just nods at Lauren's words, beginning to copy the notes as well.

"Please halt all conversations," Mr. Parker says, looking directly at Lauren and Angela.

Angela's face turns the brightest shade of red; she's always been the by-the-book type. Follows the rules. Does what she's asked. Never gets into trouble. I imagine her life is pretty predictable, routine and rarely ever gets out of control. I envy her.

Mr. Parker is half-way into his lecture on photosynthesis when the door to the classroom opens. In walks Mrs. Andrews, the school secretary, followed by Bathroom Boy. Andrews and Parker exchange words, as the boy stands there with his head down. I wonder what must be so fascinating on his shoes for him to be looking so absorbedly at them.

"Who is that?" Sarah, a short blonde girl to my right, asks to no one in particular.

"My future boyfriend," Lauren answers.

There's an eruption of giggles from the girls. I roll my eyes, but can't help but feel some level of jealousy over their ability to be so silly and carefree. Must be nice.

"Excuse me class," Mrs. Andrews gathers everyone's attention. "As I'm sure you've all heard by now, we have a couple new students with us today. They're all seniors, there's Alice Cullen, Emmett Cullen and this is Edward Cullen."

The boy, Edward, looks up with a small smile. I can practically hear every girl in the room swoon. I can understand. He's, well, he's beautiful, for a lack of a better word. His hair is a shade I've never seen before-not even on Lauren who has had every hair color you can buy. He's tall, not particularly muscular, but nowhere near lanky. Even from my seat in the back, I can tell his eyes are an emerald green color you don't normally see. For a second, I wonder if he's wearing colored contacts but quickly dismiss you. He doesn't seem the type to put that much thought into his appearance. Or, at least, that's what his dark jeans and plain blue t-shirt say.

Mrs. Andrews whispers something to Mr. Parker, as Edward continues to stare down at his feet. I wonder if he can feel the intense gaze of lust from the collective female population of the room.

"Alright, Mr. Cullen you can have a seat in the back there," he gestures to the seat two spots down from me. The only remaining empty seat in the class.

Edwards nods, then makes his way through the maze of desks to his seat. Lauren practices a flirty smile at him as he passes her. He doesn't notice, or pretends not to, and continues on. I peek at him from the corner of my eye, wondering if he's seen me yet and if he'll recognize me from our run-in in the bathroom this morning. I hide behind a wall of hair, hoping he won't notice me.

"Okay, focus everyone, back to work," Mr. Parker begins lecturing again.

There's just a few minutes left of class when I finally work up the courage to take a glance over at Edward. Tyler Crawley sits in the desk between us, so I have to lean forward a bit to see him clearly. He's looking up intently at the board, copying down the notes. He has a look of utter concentration on his face and I wonder if he's actually paying attention or just working hard to give the appearance that he is-which I am all too familiar with.

He's pale, where Jacob is tan. He's got gentle eyes, where Jacob's are angry. His hands look soft, like they've never done hard labor. Or hit a girlfriend across the face for staring too long at someone of the opposite sex.

I shake my head, sometimes I have to remind myself that most girls don't have boyfriends who punish them. Most girls don't have boyfriends who leave bruises as reminders. Most girls don't have boyfriends who slowly steal their sense of self-worth. But then again, most girls don't deserve it.

Then, as if sensing my attention on him, Edward looks over at me. His wonderful green eyes stare harshly into my boring brown ones. They look over my face, before resting on the spot where the gash is currently being hidden by my carefully placed locks of hair. There's an expression on his face I can't read, it's not anger or curiosity or interest. It's a look I have never seen before and it makes me uncomfortable.

The bell rings, pulling us both out of our trances and signaling the end of class. I quickly gather up my belongings, fearful that he might approach me and strike up a conversation. I push passed Angela and Lauren, the latter of which is lagging behind to quite obviously find a reason to speak to Edward. Angela gives me a small wave as I brush by.

I enter the lunchroom, taking my usual spot at the end of table that houses the "popular" kids. Though I am no longer the center of the group, I am still on the outskirts. My position has been taken over by Tanya Denali, who had always been waiting in the wings, ready to pounce for the role of Queen Bee. The others began filtering in, throwing down their bagged lunches on the tabling, pulling their chairs out. The sound is like nails on a chalkboard, and I inwardly shudder at it.

"So what do you think about the new chick?" Mike asks Ben and Eric, who have also taken their usual spots around the table.

"Kind of weird looking," Eric answers, mouth full of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich his mother makes him every morning.

"She's short," adds Ben. "And quiet."

"She might not be much to look at, but have you seen her brothers?" Tanya sets down her tray, taking her position at the center of the group.

"Um, yum," giggles Jessica.

"I would do very bad things to that Emmett guy," Lauren joins in. "But even worse things to Edward."

I roll my eyes, turning my attention to the three new siblings as they enter the cafeteria. There's a hush over the room as they make their way towards the empty table by the windows. It must be so weird being new in such a small town. All the attention, all the gossip. I'd rather rip out my own fingernails than be the new kid in this school.

"So wait, they're all adopted?" Mike asks, shoving a chip into his mouth as he openly gawks at them.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure," Lauren responds. "At least, that's what I overheard the ladies in the office saying when I was in there this morning."

I munch on my baby carrots, sneaking a glance over in their direction. The three of them are in a hushed conversation, hunched over the table. I wonder if they're plotting their escape.

"What do you think Bella?" Tanya smirks over at me.

She likes to drag me into conversations every so often, as to remind me of my fall from grace. That she is top dog now.

"Bella likes the big muscular types," Angela teases, winking at me. "I mean, look at Jacob."

Angela was always the sweet one, always trying to make everyone get along. Although right now, I just wish she would ignore Tanya's remark and try to change the subject like I could normally count on her to do.

"Oooo," Jessica pokes my arm.

I bite back a wince. She just poked the fresh bruises that circle my bicep.

"Bella likes Emmett, Bella likes Emmett," Tanya chants.

The others join in and I duck my head down in embarrassment.

"Shut up you guys," I whisper. "I do not like Emmett."

Tanya smiles evilly.

"Oh, so it's Edward that you like?" She asks.

"Aww, come on Bells," Mike comes up from behind me, throws his arms around my own and squeezes me into a hug. "We're just messing with you."

"Ow!" I yell so loud, everyone in the entire cafeteria looks over in our direction.

I can feel my face turning red in shame, as I rub the bruise on my arm. Mike looks at me confused, wondering what he's done wrong. I look over at the Cullen's table, all three of them staring over at me.

"I, um," I start, racking my brain for an excuse.

I think of my old standbys: I tripped over my own feet, I hit my head on my desk, I fell off my bed.

"I got hit in the arm with a basketball in gym class," I find myself saying.

They all laugh, accepting the lie. After all, I was Clumsy Bella. If they paid close enough attention, however, they would realize that Clumsy Bella didn't become Clumsy Bella until after she started dating Jacob Black. Teenagers, though, have the attention span of gnats; so the beginnings of my klutziness were a distant memory to them.

"I just remembered I told Mrs. Hanover I'd stop by early today to help reshelf books," I say, pushing my chair back and collecting my things.

None of them hear, or at least care enough to acknowledge my leaving, aside from Angela. She looks at me questioningly. It's not the first time she's given me that look. I sometimes see her staring at me from across the table or classroom, with that same look. As if she knows. As if she is just waiting for me to confirm it.

"You okay?" She asks, as I pull my book bag over my shoulder.

"Yeah," I smile. "I'm good. I'll see you later."

* * *

><p>The end of the day finally arrives and I shove my binder and books into my locker, glancing at the clock on the wall as I do.<p>

2:31 p.m.

I feel my body start to tense, hurrying myself even more than usual. I don't want another bruise today.

"Excuse me, Bella Swan?"

I shut my locker and turn around to see a small, black-haired girl roughly three inches shorter than me. She's smiling, clutching her notebooks in her arms, swinging from side-to-side slightly.

"Um, yeah," I answer.

"I'm Alice Cullen," she sticks out her hand for me to shake.

I take it, hesitantly, wondering what this girl wants. Wondering if her brother mentioned something to her.

2:32 p.m.

"Nice to meet you," I smile, starting to make my way around her.

She follows me as I walk, her strides shorter but quicker to make up for the difference in our heights.

"Did you need something?" I ask, looking over at her, trying not to sound as hurried as I feel.

"Yeah, actually. Mrs. Andrews said I could get all of my school books in the library and I overheard that girl with the blonde hair. . .Laura?" She scrunches up her nose.

"Lauren," I correct her.

"Right, Lauren. Anyway, I overheard her saying you work in the library during your free period so I thought maybe you could help me find them," She so sweet and unassuming, so nice.

2:35 p.m.

I should be outside, in the parking lot by now. I bite my lip, feeling the tension build inside of me.

"Yeah, no problem. I can meet you at my locker first thing in the morning and we can go get them," I rub my forehead furiously, feeling that familiar sense of fear begin to creep up inside the pit of my stomach.

"Well, I was kind of hoping we could run in there real quick right now," she starts. "I have a ton of work to catch up on and I wanted to get a start on it tonight."

I can feel the sweat start to build under my arms, down my back.

"Uh yeah, okay," I quicken my pace, heading in the direction towards the library.

I have never been so thankful that Forks High School is so small before in my life. We enter the library and I throw my bag down on the front desk.

"Here's a copy of my schedule," she hands me a single sheet of paper, with a list of all her classes and teachers.

2:38 p.m.

"Yeah," I say, looking over it.

I walk as fast as I can, without it seeming suspicious, to the backroom where all of the school's textbooks are stored. I scan over her schedule, pulling out the appropriate books. I place them on the desk in front of her in record time.

"Wow, that was fast," she laughs, looking over them. "Oh wait, this is for AP Government, I'm in regular Government."

She slides a book back to me.

2:42 p.m.

I can feel my breath become more shallow. I hold back my tears, threatening to spill over. She doesn't know. She doesn't know what will happen if I am not out in that parking lot by 2:45 p.m.

"You know what," she says suddenly.

I look up at her, attempting to hide all signs of terror from my eyes. She's looking at me curiously.

"I can just get it myself, I don't want to keep you any longer than I already have."

"Are you sure?" I ask.

Her face loses the curiosity and suddenly, it's like I am looking at Edward Cullen in Biology all over again. She has that look on her face, the unrecognizable one that makes me so uncomfortable I have to look away.

"Yeah," she answers quietly. "You go on ahead."

2:43 p.m.

I give her a thankful look and all but sprint towards the back of the school, where the parking lot lies. I shove some stragglers out of my way, as I make my way through the hallway.

2:44 p.m.

I get held up by the janitor, who decides this is the perfect time and perfect spot to start mopping the floor. He yells at me to slow down and I skid to a halt, apologizing. Even in my sheer fear, I cannot disobey. I quicken my pace as I get further away from him.

2:45 p.m.

I can feel the bile rising in my throat, the acid churning in my stomach. The fear so overwhelming that I'm surprised I am still able to continue on and not paralyzed, glued to the floor.

2:46 p.m.

I shove through the doors, feeling the rain hit my face as I run to that spot, by the willow tree. The rain, as if sensing my mood, picks up, the drops feeling like small knives stabbing my face.

2:47 p.m.

Jacob isn't here.

2:48 p.m.

He came and saw that I wasn't here and he left and I will pay for it and it will hurt and I will deserve every bit of it.

2:49 p.m.

I become calm, my body relaxing. The fear is in the unknown, the rushing to the parking lot, the staring at the clock. Now that I know what will be waiting for me when I see Jacob again, now that I know the certainty of what will come, I am calm.

2:50 p.m.

Suddenly, through the roar of the rain, I hear my phone beep. I dig through my bag, pulling it out to see that I have one new text.

It's from Jacob.

2:51 p.m.

_Hey babe, sorry I'm late. Got held up in some traffic from an accident. Will be there as soon as I can! - J_

I stare down at the screen, reading and re-reading the text. He was never here. He never came and saw that I wasn't out here by 2:45. That I wasn't late. He doesn't know.

2:52 p.m.

_No worries : ) - B_

The smile I send him is as fake as the smile I gave Angela in the lunchroom earlier. I shut my phone, putting it back into my backpack.

2:53 p.m.

I sit under the willow tree, the water dripping off the leaves, soaking me, and I cry.


	4. Swiss Army Romance

I own nothing.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4 - Swiss Army Romance<strong>

When I was 8 years old, I got punched in the face by Brad Davis. He was a year older than me and convinced that I had cooties. I just wanted to play pirates with him and the other neighbor boys.

"_. . .and then he told me that I was just a stupid, useless girl," I sobbed to my dad, as he carried me back to our house after being called by Brad's mother._

_He carried me up the front steps, into the kitchen where he sat me down on one of the chairs. He brushed the hair back off my face. _

"_You're going to have one heck of a shiner," he said, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. _

_He went to the fridge, filling up a small plastic bag he had retrieved from the pantry with ice. Walking back over, he gently placed the bag onto my knuckles. I cringed, the cold hitting the sore spot on the back of my hand. _

"_Daddy, I know I shouldn't have hit him, but he hit me first," I hiccupped through my tears. _

"_You're right, Bella," he responded, inspecting my hand. "You shouldn't ever hit anyone. . .even if they do have it coming."_

_A small smile played on his lips, silent pride playing on his face that his baby girl was fully capable of defending herself. _

"_On the other hand, you have to be able to take care of yourself," he continued. "Don't ever let anyone hurt you like that, okay honey? Boys shouldn't hit girls."_

_I stared up at him, not sure exactly what he meant. Not having ever witnessed any real violence in my life, my young mind wasn't able to comprehend what he was getting at. But the look in his eyes, the need for me to understand his words was clear._

"_Okay, Daddy."_

I often wonder what my father would think of me now. What his face would look like if he saw the bruises. Knowing that I let it happen. Knowing that I didn't fight back this time.

But he wouldn't understand. Wouldn't get what it was like to love someone so much that you would take everything they gave you, even if it what they gave you hurt.

"So Chief, anything exciting happen this week?" Jacob sat across from my father, shoveling his steak into his mouth.

Every Sunday Jacob comes over for dinner, further charming my parents.

"Just another week in Forks," he starts. "Met with that new doctor, Cullen."

I keep my head down, trying not to show that my interest is peaked. The Cullens, having only been here for less than a week, are already the talk of the town. Rumors and stories are spreading like wildfire: why they're here, why the kids are adopted. I've heard stories that Edward got into some legal trouble back in Chicago, getting kicked out of school and causing the entire family to uproot. I've heard that Emmett was offered some sort of football scholarship at the University of Washington and the family moved out here a year early to help get him adjusted to the area. I've heard story after story, never sure which one is the truth.

"They seem to be all anyone is talking about," my mother scoops another helping of mashed potatoes onto Jacob's plate. "I ran into the wife at the grocery store. Beautiful woman, really elegant looking. I can't imagine what brought them to Forks."

"Dr. Cullen said he was getting tired of city life and the constant stress," Dad says in between bites. "He wanted his kids to know there was more to life than clothes and money and privilege."

"You wouldn't think that by the house he bought," Jacob quips.

The Cullens had moved into the what was locally known as The Lake Mansion. It's located on the outskirts of town, along the edge of Lake Wallace. It's a huge, beautiful house that had been vacant now for the better part of a decade. The story was that some big shot from Microsoft had built it as a vacation spot for his new wife. Just a few months after it was completed, the wife-along with their unborn child-had been killed in a car accident in Seattle. No one had ever actually lived in the house, it just sat there, empty and alone.

I would walk up there a lot, as a kid, and drive up there when I got my license. By myself, I would sit on the dock, staring at the house. Wondering what that guy had been envisioning for his family when he had it built. Wondering what he was doing now. Wondering if he had a new family, if they would move into the house. But no one ever moved in.

Until now.

"It is a pretty extravagant home," Mom's words bring me out my thoughts. "But you bet your keister I wouldn't mind living there."

"They've got three kids your age, Bells," Dad says. "Two boys and one girl. Have you met any of them at school? I told Dr. Cullen I'd tell you to make them feel welcome."

I could feel Jacob's eyes on me at the mention of the two boys. Dad had used one of his trigger words.

Boys.

My face is completely blank. What Jacob doesn't realize, what the truly funny thing is, that he has made me become the world's best liar. Even to him.

"Um," I say thoughtfully. "I haven't met either of the boys, but I've talked to the girl, Alice. I helped her get her textbooks in the library."

"That was nice of you," Mom says, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

There's a few minutes of silence as everyone finishes their meal. Mom begins clearing the table, as Dad and Jacob talk sports. I sit back, thinking of that house, with the trees surrounding it. The freedom from the rest of the world it provides. I have never been one to covet wealth or expensive things; my parents never left me for want of anything. But that house, that was the one thing in my life that I have always wanted.

Once I got into high school and started going out more with friends, getting more popular, I didn't go visit it as much. Didn't think of it as much as I did as a curious, adventuresome child. I had movies to go see, parties to attend, clothes to buy.

When the hitting started, that's when I went back. I thought of that house: empty, alone, forgotten. It drew me in, the stillness of the lake freezing it in time. It was weird to know that there was life in it again, after all these years. There was music and laughter and light.

I could never escape the draw of the house. And Saturday night, I had made a huge mistake.

_The path through the woods had overgrown with weeds. When I was younger and took it everyday, it was a clear trail of dirt and mud. Like everything else, though, it had aged. I hadn't walked the path in years, choosing to drive to the house instead. Now I couldn't do that, couldn't park in the driveway freely anymore without drawing attention to myself. _

_Still, despite the fact that I knew the Cullen family was living there now, I couldn't help myself. It was like something was pulling me in that direction. _

_I pushed the tree branches out of my way as I made my way through the woods, taking in the smell of someone's bonfire from the nearby campgrounds. The air was crisp, not quite biting but still enough to produce a chill in my bones. _

_I wrapped my hoodie around myself tighter, stepping over a fallen log. My shoe caught on a rock, but I caught myself before I could fall. I laughed to myself, the idea of giving myself a bruise funny for some reason. It was at least another mile before I reached the tiny clearing of leaves that led up to The Lake Mansion. I slowed my pace as I approached it, not sure if any of the Cullens would be outside. It was nearing twilight as I glanced towards the house._

_The front of the house had huge, looming windows that overlooked the lake. I had always wanted to know what the view looked like from the inside, but never had the nerve to attempt to break in. It seemed wrong somehow, to disturb the grieving house. For the first time, however, the windows were lit brightly, life shining through. _

_I carefully made my way down the stairs leading to the dock, not seeing a Cullen in sight. I relaxed a little, allowing myself to ease my shoulders and breathe lighter. I made my way towards the end, the last remaining remnants of sunlight reflecting off the water. The water was ice cold as I put my feet into it, but it felt good, invigorating. Even though there were people living there now, it was still silent of human noise. Only the slight breeze and remaining crickets filled the air. _

_There was never any fear here. Never worry or hurt or pain. It was just me, the lake and the house watching over us. _

_I rolled up my pant legs further, revealing a few yellow bruises nearing the end of their life. The summer had been a difficult one, always having to find a reason to not wear shorts. To not go swimming and wear a bathing suit. Not to go out. I was exhausted, tired of lying. Tired of being stressed out. But most of all, tired of being scared every single minute of every single day. Except when I was here, where Jacob would never think to look for me._

_Suddenly I heard the front door of the house swing shut in the distance behind me. The noise echoed slightly throughout the woods. The sound must've seemed so foreign to the trees, having heard nothing but nature for so many years. It was too dark to make out details, but I could tell by the tall, lean shape that it was a male. There was too much distance and night between us for him to see me. I slowly pulled my legs out of the water careful not to make any noise. I rolled my pants back down, and crotched down on the dock to make myself as invisible as possible._

_He was coming closer, making his way down the stairs to the dock. I couldn't make out his face, but the moonlight was reflecting off the lake, hitting his hair, igniting it like fire. _

_Edward. _

_He was at the beginning of the dock, walking closer towards me. There was no way he wouldn't see me. I had two options: jump in the lake, risk hypothermia and pray that I could swim to the other side of the shore before I froze to death. Or admit defeat and show myself. _

_The latter option seemed like the most logical._

_I stood up carefully, hoping I didn't scare the shit out of him. _

"_Who's there?" he asked, noticing me right away. _

_His voice was deep, but gentle. _

"_I'm sorry," I answered. "I just wanted to feel the water."_

_He walked closer, still unable to make me out. And suddenly, he was right there, his face inches from mine. His breath smelled of peppermint and cigarettes. He was several inches taller than Jacob, but nowhere near as intimidating. _

"_It's you," he simply said._

_I gaped at him, not sure what he meant. I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He was beautiful. So beautiful it hurt to look at him. _

"_I. . ." the word hanging off my lips. _

_I felt awkward and ugly, standing before this perfect boy. My baggy jeans, my loose hoodie. My hair, unkempt, hanging limply. _

"_This is private property," he said._

_I continued to stare at him, unable to produce sound. _

"_Hello?" He waved his hand in front of my face. _

Say something, you idiot,_ my inner-voice yelled at me. _

_He just stood there, waiting. Probably wondering if I was, indeed, a crazy person. His eyes were intense, burning into me. I was scared, but in a way I had never felt before. In a way that wasn't terrifying. _

_I didn't know what to do, what to say. _

"_I'm sorry," I repeated, finally. _

_And then I ran, barefoot, leaving my shoes and socks behind. I didn't look back, I didn't want to see his face. My heart was pounding, whether from the run or from Edward, I didn't know. All I knew was that something in me felt alive for the first time in so long. I didn't feel the rocks cutting up my feet, the branches scraping against my face. I just felt the wind, blowing through my hair. _

Monday morning comes and with it, the creeping dread of running into Edward Cullen. I woke this morning, unsure if I had dreamt the entire encounter or if it had really happened.

"You're awfully quiet," Jacob says as we make our way towards my school in the Rabbit.

The rumbling of his car fills the few moments of silence while I think of an excuse.

"I didn't sleep well last night," I say, which isn't a complete lie. "I kept having nightmares."

Again, not a complete lie. I just leave out the fact that all of the nightmares were about him.

"I'm sorry, babe," he rubs his hand over my leg.

I place my hand over his, entangling our fingers together. These moments between us, these were the moments when I was reminded why I loved him. Why I stayed, no matter how much it hurt.

"I have a surprise for you," he says, pulling into his spot in the school lot.

I smile, turning towards him. His face is lit up, he looks like a little boy on Christmas morning.

"You do?"

He reaches in the seat behind us, bringing a small plastic bag back up with him. I clap my hands together, excited at the surprise.

"What is it?" I reach for the bag.

He laughs, holding the bag away from me, "You're so impatient."

I put my best pout on, the look that he was powerless against.

"Oh no, not the face," he closes his eyes.

"Gimme! Gimme!" I laugh.

He begins opening the bag and for a second, it feels like old times. Like how it was at the beginning. All fun, all laughs, all tender kisses and gentle touches.

"You were singing along to them the other day and I found out they were coming to Seattle," he pulls out a pair of tickets and hands them to me.

I look down at them, unsure of what exactly he's talking about.

_The Showbox - Seattle, WA_

_Death Cab for Cutie_

_October 24_

_8 p.m._

"Oh my god, you got me tickets to see Death Cab?" I squeal, holding the tickets to my chest.

"Well, before you get too excited," he starts. "Me and some of the guys are going camping that weekend off the Reservation, so I can't go with you."

My face falls a little. I thought maybe this was for us, some sort of peace offering. He's just trying to buy me off, again, thinking material things will make everything better.

"Babe, come on," he lifts my chin up with his hand, so that I'm looking directly into his eyes. "You can take one of your girl friends."

I don't mention that I haven't hung out with any of my girl friends in months, too afraid that if they got me alone, they'd somehow get my secret out of me.

"It's okay," I say, not wanting to risk angering him. "I'll take Jessica or Angela."

I look down at the tickets once more before putting them into my backpack. I turn back to Jacob.

"That was really sweet of you," I pull him close to me, smelling his musky cologne, the same cologne he always wears.

He kisses my head before pulling away.

"I'll see you after school," I gently peck his cheek, grabbing my back and opening the door.

As I make my way towards the school, I see the Cullens pull up. I've never seen their car before, but it being a Volvo-the only expensive car in the lot-I assume it's them. I quickly hide behind one of the trees along side of the building, hoping not to be spotted.

Alice is the first one to exit the car, coming out of the back left side door. She's dressed in clothes that I imagine are designer and would cost nearly three times my father's monthly salary. Emmett exits next, from the passenger side. He's a bear of a guy, all muscle. He would be terrifying-looking if he didn't have a seemingly perpetual smile on his face.

Then came Edward, from the driver's side. Dressed in dark jeans and a grey coat, with a green shirt peeking out. While Alice and Emmett seem friendly and open, Edward is closed off. His face in a permanent scowl. I wonder if any of them are actually blood related, linked in a way other than their adoptive parents.

Emmett's hair matches Alice's, as black as night. But where he is tall and overpowering, she is short and frail. I realize suddenly that I am not the only one staring at the three of them, dozens of other eyes upon them.

I look away and begin making my way towards my locker, not wanting to look like one of them. Another townie simpleton, curious about the new kids from the big city.

"Bella!" I hear my name being called suddenly, from somewhere behind me.

I stop, turning slowly, not recognizing the friendly voice. Then I see Alice emerge from the pack of students crowding the hallway. She's lit up, smiling and waving as she walks closer.

"I thought that was you," she says, coming up beside me.

"Hey Alice," I respond, unsure of why she is speaking to me.

There's an awkward pause and I begin to think she regrets approaching me.

"I just wanted to thank you again for getting me those textbooks, you have no idea how much I got done this weekend," she shifts her backpack to her other shoulder.

"Yeah, no problem," I shrug.

She continues staring at me, smiling like knows something I don't.

"I was wondering," her voice suddenly sounding unsure. "Maybe you might want to hang out. I mean, I don't really know anyone here and you're really the only person I've talked to. Not that we really talked, it's just that it's hard to make friends in such a small town where everyone already knows each other."

She's rambling and I can tell that, despite her outward confidence, she's incredibly nervous. I wonder what it must feel like, moving somewhere completely new, on the other side of the country, leaving everything you've ever known behind.

"Um, sure," I reply. "We could do that."

Her face lights up, like I just told her I found her lost puppy or something.

"Really?" she beams.

"Yeah," I say.

She goes on about going shopping this weekend and all I can think is what have I agreed to. Another person to have to pretend with. Another person to have to lie to. Another potential distraction from Jacob. Another hit. Another bruise.

* * *

><p>Thank you for all the feedback, it is very much appreciated. Please let me know what you think so far, if you have any questions, etc.<p>

Also, I have added a playlist for each chapter on my profile.


	5. A Mess To Be Made

I own nothing _Twilight._

**Chapter 5****- A Mess To Be Made**

Friday comes so fast, I'm not sure if the rest of the week even actually happened. The only evidence I have are fresh marks on my shoulder and back. These ones are courtesy of Tanya, although she would never know it.

_Wednesday afternoon proved to be a rare day in Forks. The sun had come out and decided to stay, warming up the air enough for jackets to be removed, for short sleeves to make one last appearance. It was days like that when everyone would linger longer in the parking lot, Jacob being no exception. He had arrived to pick me up at 2:45 on the dot, this time stepping out of his car. _

_I stood up from my spot by the willow tree, and walked towards him. I could feel the eyes of all the girls on him. Jacob was good-looking, there was no doubt about it. His dark looks gave him an exotic appeal that the female population of Forks High lusted after. His arms were crossed as he leaned against the Rabbit, a black t-shirt revealing his muscular limbs. By the time I reached him, a small group of my friends had also made their way over. _

"_Jake, we've missed you, where have you been?" Tanya whined, her sweater had been removed revealing a tight white tank top that I'm sure did not go unnoticed by the boys, Jacob included. _

"_Bella got you on a short leash?" Mike laughed, punching my arm in a playful manner. _

_Jacob laughed and I remembered how much he got along with everyone, how easy it all was for him. He didn't have to win people over, they were just naturally attracted to him. You wanted to be around him, he drew you in like he was his own personal sun. _

"_Well, you know how it is," he winked at me. "She can barely keep her hands off me."_

"_Yeah, you wish," I winked back at him. _

"_What are you guys doing?" Angela asked, her arm lovingly wrapped around Ben's waist. "We're all going to the diner, you should join."_

_I looked up at him, unsure of how to answer. We didn't normally hang out with my friends, choosing to stay closer to the Reservation and do stuff with his friends. It wasn't that he didn't like them, but with my friends, there was always the risk that they'd say something, unknowingly, that would piss Jacob off._

"_We could do that," he answered. "That cool with you Bells?"_

_I nodded, actually pleased at the thought that we'd get to spend time doing something new as opposed to the same old routine. _

"_Maybe Bella will want to invite Edward?" Tanya said suddenly, a smirk played on her lips._

_And all at once, it felt like the air had been knocked out of me. I didn't dare look up at Jacob, instead choosing to roll my eyes. _

"_Edward?" He asked._

_Tanya pointed in the direction of the Volvo, currently sitting unoccupied on the other side of the lot. _

"_Just some new kid," I brushed off, hoping to end the conversation. _

"_Oh come on, Bella," Tanya continued on. "We all saw the way you were staring at him in the cafeteria. You were practically undressing him with your eyes."_

_Everyone laughed. Everyone but myself. And Jacob._

"_What?" I bit back._

_I had been staring at Edward. Not just today, but all week. Wondering if he was going to approach me, ask me why I had been lurking in the shadows of his house. If he had told his sister. Most importantly though, if he was going to give me back my pair of shoes. Those were my favorite._

"_I think I even saw a little drool," Jessica chimed in. _

_I could feel my chest begin to tighten, the panic setting in. _

"_Bella?" Jacob said, looking at me intently._

_No one else could see it, the subtle shift in his mood. The way his eyes went from brown to black, the pupils dilating. The way his fist clenched up, the way that vein was throbbing in his neck. These were the warning signs that only I could see. _

"_They're just joking with you, Jacob," I tried to sound light and airy, but even I could hear the pleading in my voice. _

"_There's loverboy now!" Tanya giggled, pointing towards the stairs where, indeed, the three Cullens were making their way down. _

_They were all in deep in conversation, not realizing that they were the subject of criticism only a couple hundred feet away. _

"_Which one?" Jacob had asked._

"_The guy with the lighter hair, that weird shade. Kind of looks like an old penny," Mike said, his eyes on Edward. _

_I felt Jacob's hand on my own, the grip so tight I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out. Surely the bones were being crushed into a fine powder, rendering my hand useless. _

"_Alright, I'm starving," Angela broke the tension. "Lets go before I chew off my own arm."_

"_We'll see you guys there," Jacob replied, opening my car door for me. _

_I wondered for a second if we were fine, if maybe he was brushing the whole thing off to my friends being jerks who were just screwing around. _

"_Get in the car," he said under his breath._

_Nope._

_Before I got in, I stole one last look over at the Cullens. Alice was talking animatedly, her hands all over the place, a smile spread wide across her face. Emmett was just nodding, humoring her I'm sure. _

_Edward was looking directly back at me. His brow furrowed, he looked utterly confused. I kept his gaze for a few seconds longer before Jacob was yelling at me to get in the car, pulling my arm._

_I knew, as I put on my seatbelt, that I had a few minutes more before the hurt would start. He wouldn't dare do anything in the school parking lot, there were too many curious eyes, too many witnesses. I looked into the side mirror and now I understood why Edward had been looking at me, so confused. My face was so pale, it looked like all of the blood had been drained from it. My eyes were wide, in a way that could only be described as pure terror. My chest was rising and falling so fast, I could barely keep up with it. _

_If anyone had been looking at me like I had him, I would be wondering "what the hell?" too. _

_The diner wasn't too far from school, but just before we made the turn onto the main road, Jacob pulled off into a side street. He had parked far enough down so that there were no houses, just woods and an empty lot. He cut the engine, the car suddenly void of music. He turned to me._

"_Who is Edward?" _

"_No one."_

"_Then why did they say you were eye-fucking him in class?" His hands were still on the steering wheel, knuckles pulled so tight all I could see was white. _

"_He's just some kid, some new kid," I started, knowing it was too late for me. _

_The rage had already set in and there was no roping it back. _

"_Just some kid?" He asked, his gaze know straight ahead at the trees before us._

"_Yes, Jacob, I swear," I said. "I've never even talked to the guy."_

_His fist came at me before I could say anymore. Hitting my shoulder, my arm so hard I thought I might pass out from the pain. I wrapped myself up into a little ball, trying to protect my head. That just made them come harder, faster. _

"_Do you want him? Is that what this is about?" He said, in between hits. _

"_No, I swear, I don't," I sobbed, anything to make the hurt stop. "Only you, Jacob. Only you."_

_I think maybe he's done when I feel no more, but just as I look up I see his first coming back. One last hit, one last reminder. _

_We sat in silence for what felt like eternity but was actually only ten minutes. I cried silently, wiping the tears away with my right hand, the one that didn't hurt to move. _

"_Clean yourself up," he said calmly. "You don't want your friends knowing what you did, do you?"_

_I shook my head, pulling my makeup bag out of my backpack. I applied a fresh coat and by the time I was done, you couldn't even tell I'd been crying. _

_He turned the car back on, turned the radio up and drove us to the diner. _

Now I find myself driving down the long path that leads to the Cullen house, leaves of every color creating a thick blanket over the gravel trail.

Somehow Alice, who had become joined to my hip over the past week by her own doing, convinced me to come over to her house for the evening. I had tried to come up with every excuse possible to get out of it, but she had kept begging and begging. Maybe I sympathized with her loneliness, maybe her pleading had worn me down or maybe I just really wanted to see the inside of her house. I told myself it was the first two, but in reality, I really did just want to see what the Lake Mansion looked like.

Jacob was having some sort of tribe thing tonight, so if it wasn't hanging out with Alice, it would be sitting on my bed all night, re-reading another Jane Austen novel. Which was exactly what Jacob thought I was doing. If he knew I was anywhere near Edward Cullen outside of school, the consequences would be unimaginable.

I park my truck behind an Audi of some sort, another reminder of how much money I don't have. The truck was a present to myself on my 16th birthday. I had used money I'd been saving since I was eight, saving every single dollar my grandparents sent on holidays, birthdays. It was red, loud and looked like it might fall apart at any moment. I loved it. It's the first thing I've ever owned that is completely mine.

I gingerly walk towards the front door. The house is lit up like Times Square. I guess when you have that much money, energy bills aren't really a big concern. My dad yells at me if I leave a room without turning the light off.

Before I can even knock, the door is flung open and Alice throws her arms around me. I wince, hoping she doesn't hear the slight hiss of pain that escapes my lips. She is wearing a denim skirt and a black, short sleeved v-neck top. I want to remind her that this is Washington and it's almost the middle of October, but realize that's probably not the most polite way to begin a visit with someone who just invited you to their ginormous mansion.

"I'm so glad you're here!" she squeals.

I smile, not sure how to respond. I've never seen someone so happy to see me before. I follow her inside, taking a look around the foyer. I remember my mother saying something about Mrs. Cullen being an interior designer and it definitely shows. The entrance is painted a chocolate brown, with dark mahogany wood accenting it along the trim. A bench sits against the wall, orange and yellow pillows sit atop it. The room looks like autumn, I don't know how else to describe it.

"Come on, let me show you around," Alice pulls me along with her.

We walk into the main room, where the windows start at the floor and extend well above us. It's too low to see the dock from here, but I can see the lake in the distance, the trees just beyond it.

"It's beautiful," I say, staring out the window.

"I think it's a little much, but I guess it really wasn't up to me," Alice says, standing next to me.

I'm taken aback, wondering how a girl who wears such expensive clothes could be complaining about living in this magnificent home.

"I want to show you my room!" She turns to the stairs, and I follow behind her.

The house seems endless, level after level. Alice takes me to the third floor, down a long hallway until we stop at the first door on the left. She opens the door to reveal an exquisitely decorated bedroom. The walls are a plum color, the bedding a deep shade of green. Like downstairs, the furniture is all dark mahogany wood.

"Mom chose all dark colors," she says suddenly. "Something about how the windows let in enough light and contrast. I don't know, I wasn't really paying attention."

She hops down on her bed and pats the space next to her for me to sit.

I sit, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward. Alice is a nice girl, but we really don't know anything about each other. I could venture to guess that I'm not exactly the type of girl she would really want to hang out with in the first place: I'm not cheerful or smiley or happy. I'm stressed and cautious and worried.

She seems more like an Angela or Jessica type. I should introduce the three of them, so I can be free to go back to my safe, secure emptiness.

"Knock, knock," a lovely female voice says from outside the door.

A gorgeous woman emerges, her hair almost the same color as Edward's, but with golden honey tones. I want to ask if they're actually related, but it's probably not the best question to ask a woman you met five seconds ago.

"Mom, hey," Alice stands up. "This is Bella Swan, the girl I was telling you about."

"Bella, lovely to meet you," she says. "I'm Esme."

I think she's coming in for a handshake, but hugs me instead. I don't know where to put my hands, so I just let them hang limply at my sides.

"It's great to meet you, Mrs. Cullen. You're home is amazing."

"Esme, please. Call me Esme," she smiles, showing her perfect white teeth.

"Esme," I repeat.

"Unfortunately Carlisle isn't here tonight, he's on call," she says apologetically.

"Carlisle is my dad," Alice says, off my confused look.

"Oh," is all I say.

"I made you girls some snacks and set them up in the media room," even Esme's voice is perfect.

Snacks? Media room? The last time I stayed over at Jessica's house, her mom set out a $20 for pizza and her Blockbuster card while she went off to go drinking at some shithole bar in Port Angeles.

We all walk down to another level of the house and I'm so turned around, I couldn't tell you if we were even still in Forks. The house was big enough, I wouldn't have been the least surprised if we'd somehow wandered over to an entire other county.

Esme opens two French doors, to what they keep calling the media room. Stepping inside, I can clearly see why: the television is roughly four times the size of the one currently sitting in my family room. My father would think he died and went to heaven if he ever got to watch a Seahawks game on this thing. The chairs are like that of a movie theater, only more plush and comfortable looking. There's a popcorn machine off to one side, with a table next to it filled with every kind of junk food you could fathom.

The two of them just walk in like this is nothing. Like everyone has a fucking movie theater in their house. I don't want to seem like a total townie, so I decide not to mention my own 19 inch TV, with the metal coat hanger serving as an antennae that is on top of my dresser. For some reason, I don't think the fact that I get one channel, a public access one no less, will impress them too much.

"I'll let you girls be, just let me know if you need anything," Esme kisses Alice on the cheek. "I'll be up in the library."

Oh, the library. We have one of those too. It's what my dad calls the magazine rack that sits next to the toilet.

I laugh silently to myself, surprised that I'm doing so. I haven't been able to crack a joke in so long, it's weird to be doing it even if it is to no one but myself.

"What do you want to watch?" Alice asks, closing the doors behind her mother.

"Um, I don't know, what do you have?" I ask, walking over to the snack table.

"Lets see," she starts rummaging through a giant shelf filled with movies.

I look around the table, it all looks so good. I'm about to grab a handful of M&Ms when my phone vibrates in my pocket.

_How's reading going? - J_

My heart slams into my ribcage. I'd forgotten about Jacob. About my lie. Stupid. I was letting myself get distracted, letting my guard down.

_Nothing too exciting. How's your night going? - B_

"Ooo, have you seen this one?" Alice holds up a DVD from her spot by the shelf.

I don't recognize the cover, but the actress on it looks incredibly generic.

"I don't so," I say, looking back down at my phone.

_Nothing exciting here either. Can I call you in a bit? - J_

I can't risk talking to him on the phone here. What if he hears Alice in the background? Or, god forbid, Edward happens to make a random appearance?

_I'm actually about to pass out, I'm exhausted. Long week. - B_

Please buy that. Please buy that.

_No problem. Sleep tight : ) - J_

_Night - B_

I turn my phone to completely silent and put it back in my pocket, determined to focus my full attention on Alice. I don't want to seem rude after her and her mother have been so kind to me.

After Alice insists on changing into our pajamas, we plop down in the chairs to begin watching the movie. She's wearing shorts and a tank top. I'm wearing sweatpants, a t-shirt and a sweatshirt atop it. It's not particularly cool in the house, but I'm not about to bare any unnecessary skin. Not with Alice's curious eyes and knack for seeming to know things without me telling her.

We're about two-thirds of the way through Sweet Home Miss Congeniality when I hear the soft snore of Alice next to me. I look over to see her curled up into a little ball, her mouth hanging open slightly.

"Alice?" I whisper.

No response.

I want to ask her where the kitchen is, so I can refill my water glass but don't want to wake her up. I decide it can't be too hard to find the kitchen in this place. Wrong. I somehow end up in what appears to be a game room, with a pool table and air hockey table in the center. Just beyond those is a set of doors leading outside to the dock.

I sneak a glance behind me. No one. I carefully make my way out the door, closing it softly behind me. The grass is dewy beneath my feet as I walk across it. The air is biting. Winter is already on our heels.

I make my way down the stairs and begin down the dock. I stop dead in my tracks when I see a figure up ahead, just a shadow with the lit end of a cigarette moving up and down.

"Do you ever wear shoes?" A voice asks.

Edward.

"I got lost," I respond.

Wow, really Bella?

There's silence and I step closer as he takes another hit off his cigarette.

"What do you want from Alice?" his voice is low, husky.

"What?"

I don't understand what he means, suddenly bringing Alice into the conversation.

"My sister," he says. "You want her to buy you stuff?"

I'm so offended by what he says that all I can manage is a weird snort sound.

"I've seen you and your friends, you're all kind of assholes," he continues.

I want to tell him he's the asshole, but again, probably not the most polite thing from a houseguest.

"I like Alice, she's really sweet," even I can tell how lame it sounds.

Who calls someone "sweet"? What am I? My 85 year old grandma?

He doesn't respond, but instead takes a long drag off the cigarette. He runs his free hand through his hair, causing it to become more disheveled, if that is possible. I can see why all of the girls at school call him sexy. And then he opens his mouth again:

"The last thing Alice needs is to be screwed around with by some stuck-up townie bitch who is just using her for her money," he throws the cigarette onto the ground, putting it out with his shoe.

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. My mind is racing, who does this guy think he is? Finally I am able to produce sound through my rage.

"Listen, Ed-ward," I over-emphasize his name. "You don't know one thing about me. So before you go calling me "some stuck-up townie bitch", maybe you should take a closer look at yourself, you judgmental dick."

The look on his face is priceless, complete shock that some five-foot three girl, too small for her own pajamas and weighing maybe 100lbs. sopping wet just called him a dick.

I turn on my heel, not wanting him to get in another word, and begin walking back towards the house. My palms are sweating, my breath heavy. I'm not scared, I'm not worried.

I'm pissed, for the first time in a really long time.

* * *

><p>Please let me know what you guys are thinking, I'm wondering if I should continue or not. I don't really know if anyone is finding the story that interesting.<p> 


	6. Ana's Song

I own nothing _Twilight._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>** - Ana's Song**

"Come on Bella, please."

"I don't know."

"Please?"

"I'll have to ask my parents. . ."

She sticks her lip out, pouting. Despite her fairy-like stature, Alice has a way of convincing anyone to do anything. Like to go to a party thrown by Tanya Denali.

I haven't done anything remotely age-appropriate since I began dating Jacob. Not because he doesn't want me to, but I figure Jacob + alcohol + my friends wouldn't be a situation I would want to willingly place myself in. The less I hung out with my friends, the bigger the void became in my life. Between who I once was and who I am now.

"I've never been to a high school party before," she whines.

I just look at her, from my place at the head of my bed. She was leaning back in my desk chair, flipping through Cosmopolitan.

"You're telling me you've never been to a high school party before? I don't buy that for one second," I roll my eyes.

"Okay, I've never been to a Forks high school party," she says. "It's different than a Chicago high school party."

"How so?"

"Well in Chicago, it's all about who's wearing what, what venue you score for the party, what band you get to perform," she starts. "Here it's. . ."

"Who can get the drunkest and have the most sex?" I finish for her.

She just laughs at me, shaking her head. Over the past two weeks, Alice has slowly been weaseling her way into my life in one way or another. She would randomly show up in the evening to watch _Jeopardy _with my parents. Or tag along on car rides with me and Jacob. I don't know if she's just trying to get out of her house (to not have to deal with Edward, I assume) or if this was just who she was.

"Come on," she was pleading now. "It'll be so much fun. We can get ready together at my house, I'll even let you borrow an outfit!"

I don't have the heart to tell her that A.) I doubt any of her clothes would actually fit me and B.) there was no way in hell I would ever reveal that much skin. I could maybe pull off short sleeves, depending on what the status of my arms was that day. It has been several days since anything has happened with Jacob, as Alice is seemingly joined to our hips.

Initially, I wasn't sure how he would react to her: she's loud, she appears to have little regard for other people's personal space and never apologizes for anything. Even when she accidentally spilled her Coke on his lap. I had waited for the rage to appear, for the tightening of his fist, but it never came. He had laughed. Actually laughed, as if it were no big deal.

And then I remembered: this is the Jacob the rest of the world knows. Charming, funny and easygoing. I forgot how he could be around everyone else.

"I'm not sure," I hesitate. "I think I might be doing something with Jacob that night."

The party is tomorrow, Friday, and Fridays are typically spent with Jacob on the Reservation. It's sort of an unspoken agreement we have and I never dare question it.

She just waves her hand, dismissively, saying, "I'll deal with that."

My heart starts pounding a little. I didn't like this. The possibility of her nagging Jacob on my behalf, there was no way that would end well.

"Please don't," I respond sharply.

She looks at me confused, looking at me like I've suddenly grown a second head.

"I just mean," I continue. "I'll be talking to him on the phone later tonight and I'll just do it then."

She smiles and I relax, mission accomplished.

"Okay, but promise me you'll ask him. Don't forget," she says as she stands, collecting her things.

I glance at the clock. 9 p.m.

Jacob will be calling at 9:30. He always calls at 9:30.

"I won't, I promise."

I walk her downstairs, where she hugs my mom and dad. Even they love Alice, her optimism is so contagious. Well, that or they are just glad that I have someone other than Jacob over for the first time in months. I think they're beginning to suspect I'm some sort of loser with no friends, who only makes time for her boyfriend and doesn't do anything without him.

Oh wait, that is me.

"By Bella," Alice waves as she makes her way down the porch steps "Don't forget to ask him!"

I just nod as I shut the door behind her, saying goodnight to my parents before I head towards the bathroom for a shower. I strip out of my jeans and pull my sweater over my head, throwing them both on the floor. The water feels incredible as it hits my skin, the water so hot I feel like it's washing everything off me.

Every bruise, every hit, every tear, every yell.

I run the loofa over myself, scrubbing all the pain away. I can feel my ribcage beneath my fingertips, the bones protruding out, unnaturally.

_How can Jacob find me attractive? I'm nothing. I'm skin and bones and cuts. _

I wonder, sometimes, how much longer it will be until I become so small, I'm invisible. No one at school really notices me much anymore, my popularity long gone. The popularity that I had spent years developing, worrying about my looks, my image. Years and years of caring destroyed by just months of not caring.

I step out of the shower, placing my foot carefully on the slip-resistant bathmat. My parents had gone into Port Angeles to a Bed, Bath & Beyond a few weeks ago to purchase a special rug with grip support on the bottom. They were worried about my constant tumbles and run-ins with the tiled floor.

"_You are the only person in the entire world who could slip and fall that many times in the same exact spot," _dad had said.

"_The neighbors are beginning to think we beat you or something," _mom had joined in, laughing. _"What, with all those bruises." _

I wonder what my face had looked like in that moment. That was the moment I had wanted to tell them. To look them straight in the eyes and say the marks weren't from repeatedly falling on the bathroom floor. They were from repeatedly falling into Jacob's fist.

Instead I laughed, all the while knowing I would have to come up with yet another excuse for any future bruises now that I had been robbed of that one.

Friday finally arrives and by the time it's here, I'm on the cusp of a nervous breakdown. Jacob tells me to go with Alice to the party and he'll meet me there after some tribe thing. I had been banking on him not wanting to go, thus giving me an out.

"_We haven't really hung out with your friends in a while," _he had said. _It'll be fun."_

I think we have different versions of fun, but I don't say this. Instead I agree, finding myself once again on the Cullen's front porch. Having successfully avoided the hateful glares of Edward for the past week, I am not looking forward to a possible run-in.

Emmett has, in just three short weeks, somehow managed to become the most popular guy at school. I can see why, he is a lot like Alice. Carefree, fun. He just seems to attract people-in the same way that Jacob does. Although, even having been around him only a handful of times, I could never imagine him every raising his hand to anyone. Man or woman. And if he ever did, Esme and Carlisle would have him pinned to the ground before he could even start to swing his fist.

I wonder how different Jacob would be if his mother had never left. If his father wasn't a drunken asshole. Would I have still fallen in love with him? Would I not have to wake up, every morning, sore and already exhausted? Would I not have to live with the knowledge of knowing I would never live to see my high school graduation?

"Bella!" Emmett opens the door suddenly, picking me up into a hug.

I bite my lip to keep from yelping, pasting what I hope looks like a genuine smile on my face.

"Hey Emmett, look at you," I say, taking in his appearance.

He's dressed in dark, faded jeans and a maroon waffled shirt. I don't recognize his cologne, but it smells like woods and earth and safety. It smells like someone bottled Emmett.

"Yeah, you know, I thought I'd class it up a bit tonight," he does a twirl, causing me to burst out laughing. "Got to let the ladies of Forks check out the merchandise."

His hair is styled in its usual manner, dark and with every strand in place. He smiles big, his whole face lighting up. He looks so much like Alice, I want to finally ask if they're really related but figure that would probably be incredibly rude of me.

"Are you coming with us?" I ask.

"Nah," he starts. "I mean, I'll be there, but I'm riding with Edward. He told Tanya he'd pick up some booze since he has a fake ID."

I nod, inwardly cringing at the mention of Edward. Tanya has already managed to dig her claws in him, clinging onto him whenever possible. Where Emmett is outgoing and personable, Edward is introverted and rude. He talks back to teachers, when he decides to show up for class, that is. He never has anything nice to say about anyone. He is, quite simply, a colossal jerk. Naturally, the girls of Forks High love him. Worship the ground he walks on. He is the new resident bad boy.

"That is, if he ever decides to leave his bathroom," Emmett yells up the stairs. "I swear, he spends more time on his hair than anyone I've ever met-chicks included-and it still manages to look like he just rolled out of bed."

"Maybe that's the point," I add.

At that moment, Alice comes bounding down the stairs. Wearing a short, bright blue skirt and black bootie heels, her legs look about ten times longer than they actually are. Her black tank top is tucked into the skirt and she's managed to create an ample amount of cleavage. Makeup? Magic? WonderBra?

"Bella!" she squeals.

This family is really into hugs, as I quickly learned. Never a handshake, never just a simple 'hey.'

"And you're wearing what appears to be a hooded sweatshirt," she eyes me, unapproval evident on her face. "Yeah, that's not going to work."

"Alice, this is Forks, not Fashion Week," I say, suddenly uncomfortable with my wardrobe choice. "This will be fine, trust me."

"Bella, I cannot walk into that party next to you dressed like that," she huffs.

"That's my cue," Emmett interrupts. "I like to excuse myself from any type of girly conversation before the word 'tampon' is brought up."

"Menstrual cramps," Alice teases. "Maxi pads."

"Oh, god," Emmett plugs his ears, running up the stairs.

"Vagina!" she yells at him.

I laugh, conscious of how easy and comfortable they are around each other. I'm so curious about the Cullen family but I still haven't worked up the courage to ask Alice the questions that everyone in town is wondering.

"Come on," she says, pulling my arm. "Lets go dig through my closet."

I groan, but follow her upstairs. To say that Alice's closet is big would be an understatement. I once hard that Mariah Carey had an entire floor dedicated to her wardrobe. . .Alice's could easily challenge it. There's an entire wall filled with nothing but shoes and another to purses. There was Gucci and Coach and Prada.

Oh my.

"Lets see," she disappears somewhere in a rack of tops.

I busy myself looking around her room. Which is about the size of the entire top floor of my house. A picture on shelf in the corner of the room catches my eye and I make my way over to it. It's Emmett, Alice and Edward dressed in bathing suits, posing on the dock of the Lake Mansion. The trees in the background are the same. The buoy just off the shore is the same.

Emmett, Alice and Edward, however, appear to be around eight years old.

"Ta-da!" Alice's voice rings behind me, startling me and causing me to nearly drop the picture.

I quickly place the frame back on the shelf and turn just in time for Alice to look up from the clothes she's set out on the bed for me.

"This color is going to look great on you," she holds up an orange tunic top, with a matching ribbon belt across the middle.

"I don't think I've ever worn orange in my life," I reply.

"There's a first time for everything," she answers, holding the clothes out to me.

"There's no way I'm fitting into those jeans," I point to the skinny jeans she has picked out for me, grimacing at the thought of even trying to squeeze my ass into them.

"Please," she groans. "We'll be lucky if these aren't baggy on you. You weigh like, ninety pounds."

I just stare at her with a look that says, _please don't make me do this._

Alice doesn't budge. I'm quickly learning that she always gets her way, which could explain a lot about her personality. It could also explain her Mariah Carey closet.

"Just this once," she begs. "Don't you want to look hot for Jacob?"

That gets me. I haven't really made an effort in my appearance in a long time, focusing on covering the evidence of abuse over the whole "looking cute in my clothes" aspect.

I eye the blouse she's holding. The sleeves are three-quarter length, it would hide any bruises that were still on my arms. The only thing I am hesitating on is the v-neck. . .it's not like I have any cleavage to speak of, but I'm more afraid of having a bruise on my collar bone or neck that I'm unaware of.

_It couldn't hurt to at least try it on, _I tell myself_. _

"Alright," I reach for the clothes. "I will try them on and see how ridiculous they look."

She jumps up and down. I've never seen someone so excited over an outfit before, let alone one they weren't even going to be wearing themselves.

"Okay, awesome," she claps. "You try it on, I'm going to go see if mom has any earring that'll match."

I silently thank her for allowing me to change by myself. I was going to have to pull some MacGyver-like moves to put the clothes on with her seeing as little skin as possible.

"Be right back," she exits the room, shutting the door behind her.

I let my own baggy jeans fall to the floor, and shrug out of the sweatshirt and t-shirt I had been wearing. I feel very awkward, standing here in my underwear in someone else's room. I quickly pull on the pants, surprised by how easily they slide on. I had expected to have to put up a fight, involving the ever-popular 'lying on the bed, sucking in, and attempting to button' maneuver.

I walk over to Alice's full-length mirror, just next to her dresser. The top is truly a work of art and probably costs more than all of my tops combined. I hold it against me, shivering as a draft hits my naked back.

Alice was right, the color does look good against my skin. The contrast with my dark hair stunning, almost.

"Alice, I swear to God, if I have to tell you one more time not to use my hairbrush-"

The door to the bedroom flies opens suddenly. I stand there, with my back to him. Hoping I'm imagining it. Wishing it's all in my head and that my distaste for him is so strong that, for some reason, it has made me begin hallucinating him into awkward moments of my life.

I turn my head slowly, holding the top against my front tightly. The last thing I ever want is to give Edward Cullen the satisfaction of catching a glimpse of my rack.

We make eye contact, his mouth hanging open slightly in a perfect 'O'. I turn my head back to the mirror, feeling my cheeks burn.

"I'm. . I'm sorry," he stutters, slowly backing out of the room.

There's a ten second period of silence. Edward Cullen, speechless. Imagine that.

I glance back at him and there it is again, that look that I don't understand. The look that makes it appear as though something is snapping inside him.

Disgust, I assume.

"Sorry," he says again, slamming the door shut behind me.

I release the breath I didn't even realize I was holding. I turn around, so my back is facing the mirror. I look.

And there, in a completely abstract fashion, are five bruises ranging in shape and color. Almost glowing against my pale skin.

"Fuck," I whisper.

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><p>Party will take place in next chapter, which will be up within the next few days. Edward will begin appearing more too, I promise.<p>

Please review!


	7. Love The Way You Lie Part 1

I own nothing _Twlight. _Once again, this story contains graphic violence, sexual situations, etc. So if you're uncomfortable with that, stop reading now.

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>** - Love the Way You Lie (Part 1)**

Forks has never been a hotbed for any sort of extreme illegal behavior. My dad has been the chief of police for as long as I can remember and I'm pretty sure the worst thing he's ever had to deal with was a group of teenagers breaking into the school to attempt to pull a prank. Growing up, I thought Forks was a northwestern Mayberry.

And then I got to high school.

Teenagers are just a lot better at hiding the illegal things than most people. Sex, drugs, alcohol. I guess our parents are so in denial that we would ever partake in any of those behaviors. Or they're simply just turning the other cheek.

Tanya Denali is well known for the parties she throws. She's also well known for having parents who perpetually seem to be on vacation, leaving their daughter to her own devices.

"Wow, it looks like the entire senior class is here!" Alice yells over the music as we enter Tanya's house.

Seeing as the senior class population of Forks High is just under 100, this isn't saying too much.

"Lets head to the kitchen, that's usually where the booze are at these things," she grabs my hand, pulling me through a crowd of people parked by the stairwell.

I press my way through, trusting Alice to take us in the right direction. For such a small girl, she sure is pretty forceful. I think she might have even taken out a couple of football players back there.

"Here we go," she releases my hand as we enter the kitchen.

The crowd is much smaller in here, just a few people circled around the keg.

"Jell-o shot?" A hand is suddenly in my face, holding two small cup of red goo.

I step back, seeing Mike Newton in front of me.

"No thanks," I respond.

"Bella, come on, don't be such a spoiled sport," Alice laughs, grabbing one of the cups and downing it immediately.

"Yeah, come on Bells," Mike joins in. "When is the last time you came to one of Tanya's parties? You're always hanging out with those Rez kids."

Alice does her signature pout, taking the cup from Mike and holding it out to me. I roll my eyes, taking it from her and squeezing the Jell-o down my throat. I start coughing right away, surprised by the strength of alcohol in it.

"Jeez, those weren't even the really strong ones," Mike says, patting my back. "When's the last time you drank?"

The truth was, I stopped drinking the night Jacob and I went to his friend Sam's house back in July. We had all been drinking and on the way home, I had gotten mouthy, talking back to Jacob. It was the first time he had ever hit me in the face, the first time I had ever gotten a black eye.

I don't tell Mike this. Instead I just say, "A while."

He offers us both a cup of beer next. I hesitate.

"Bella, just do it," Alice starts. "We can have a few drinks and Jacob can drive us home when he gets here. Just stay at my place so your parents won't know you've been drinking."

I want to ask her what about her own parents, but don't.

"Are you sure?" I ask. "You promise to stay by my side all night?"

She looks at me strangely.

"Of course, where else would I go?"

I just smile, if she's by my side all night then there's little risk I'll have to be alone with Jacob with alcohol in my system. Which means little risk of upsetting him and earning some sort of punishment.

"Okay," I say, grabbing the beer from Mike.

"There's the Bella Swan I grew up with!" He laughs, tapping his cup against mine. "Cheers!"

Alice leads us out onto the deck in the backyard, which is littered with people. The air is still holding onto the summer's heat, mingling with the winter chill. The temperature is perfect for a night like this.

"Who let those two losers in?" I hear a male voice call across the deck.

Emmett steps into the light of the white Christmas lights that have been strung around the deck posts.

"Har har, you're so funny," Alice punches him on the arm and he fake winces.

I take a sip of my beer, letting the cool liquid flow down my throat. Tanya's house is further out than most, the ideal place for a party. The neighbors' homes are several acres off so there is no concern over music being too loud. I walk over to the railing of the deck leading out to the woods. It is so clear, you can practically see every star in the sky.

"Edward, come on," I hear Tanya's voice coming from somewhere below me.

I peer over the edge of the deck, to the grass below. I can make out the dark forms of both Tanya and Edward, in what appears to be an embrace. I want to look away, but sheer curiosity keeps my eyes in place.

"Tanya, I told you, later," Edward's smooth voice replies. "My sister should be here by now and I told my dad I would keep an eye on her."

So there is a heart in there somewhere.

"Plus, I need to refill my beer."

And there's the Edward I know.

I hear footsteps as they climb the stairs leading up to the top deck where we're all hanging out. I busy myself with my cup, acting like I wasn't just eavesdropping on them seconds ago. Tanya stops abruptly when she sees me, causing Edward to bump into her.

"Swan? What the hell are you doing here?" she asks. "Shouldn't you be off with your boyfriend, ignoring all your friends and talking about how much better than us you are?"

"That was yesterday," I answer, without missing a beat. "Today I'm granting you all the privilege of my presence, allowing you to bask in my superiority."

Edward laughs, actually laughs.

"You always did think you were hilarious, didn't you?" Tanya scoffs, glaring at Edward as she talks to me. "Just stay out of my way tonight."

She pads off somewhere inside, leaving the two of us standing there awkwardly. I feel my face grow hot, remembering the event that occurred between us just two short hours earlier.

"I'm sorry about before," he says suddenly. "I didn't know you were in there."

I look over at him, he's glancing anywhere but at my face.

"It's fine," I reply, hoping he'll leave it at that.

"You probably should've locked the door," he continues.

My mouth hangs open and the expression on my face clearly says "seriously?"

"What happened to your ba-" he starts but is cut off by the sound of Alice walking up to us, singing along to the stereo blasting throughout the house.

I silently thank her, for the second time tonight.

"Beeellllaaaaaa," she sings. "Drink faster!"

I can tell she's already a couple beers ahead of me, as I continue to nurse my first one. I take a sip to show her I'm working on it.

"Edward!" she yells, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. "My brother from another mother."

I laugh, gulping down the remaining beer in my cup. Wanting to be as happy as Alice clearly is right now.

"How many beers have you had?" he asks her, unwrapping her arms from his waist.

"Um," she looks thoughtful. "Three."

But she's holding up five fingers.

"Look what I have brought for you, my lady," she holds out another Jell-o shot towards me.

I take it from her, putting it down my throat in one swift motion. This one is clearly stronger than the first, as my head immediately feels a little lighter.

"When's Jacob getting here?" Alice asks, swaying to the music.

"I'm not sure, he said he'd call," I respond, pulling my phone out of my pocket to glance at the screen. No missed calls.

"Jacob," Alice begins, turning towards Edward. "Is Bella's boyfriend. Have you met him? You could learn a thing or two from him."

He just snorts, shaking his head.

"What?" I ask.

"Well, his first mistake-and I don't even have to have met him to know this-is having you as a girlfriend," he says, sipping his own beer.

Um, ouch.

"Edward!" Alice chides.

"I just mean, why tie yourself down to one girl? We're seventeen. What's the rush?" his green eyes are completely unapologetic.

I figure the last part is for Alice's benefit, so she won't get pissed at him. The fact that Edward does not find me the least bit attractive is not lost on me. I suddenly feel ridiculous in the top Alice forced me to wear, having thought I could be normal for just one night.

"I'm going to go get another beer," I excuse myself to the kitchen, leaving the two of them behind to bicker.

I take several deep breathes as I wait for my turn at the keg.

Edward Cullen. What a pompous asshole. He thinks he's so much better than everyone here because he's so good-looking and rich. I can't wait for the day when he wakes up, old and alone, wondering what went wrong in his life.

"Swan?" Eric Yorkie stands before the keg. "Your turn."

I shake my thoughts away, handing him the red Solo cup, watching him fill it up.

"Your beverage," he hands it to me and without thinking, I begin drinking it, chugging the beer down in a matter of seconds.

"Holy shit, Swan," Tyler remarks, joining us at the keg. "That was impressive for someone who weighs the same as a wet mop."

"It's comments like _that_ that remind me why you're single," I say, holding my cup back out to Eric.

He quickly fills it again, and I take it, wandering off to the living room. The party appears to be in full swing, the room filled to capacity. There are several girls over in the corner, dancing along to the music. Something fast-paced and upbeat. . .I can't recall the artist, I'm not really sure what the kids are listening to these days.

Angela Weber and Ben Cheney sit on one of the couches, alternating between whispers to each other and making out. I continue sipping my beer as I go to stand in a corner, to the side of the room. The view is better from here, as I can see the entire expanse of the room. I let my eyes drift, from person to person. They're all laughing or dancing or just being seventeen.

I envy them so much, it almost hurts.

The alcohol is making my loneliness more vivid, making it hard to breathe. I need air.

I push my way to the front of the house, practically running out the front door. There are dozens and dozens of cars parked haphazardly around the yard, but no actual people. Everyone seems to be either in the house or on the back deck. I shiver as I come to a stop about several hundred feet in front of the house. The tears threaten to spill over, as I gulp in air.

"Are you okay?" Edward's voice seemingly appears out of nowhere.

"Shit!" I yell, jumping back.

He's leaning against his Volvo, which naturally I had stopped directly next to. Just my luck.

"If you're going to puke, could you aim for the direction that is not in the path of my car," he says, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

I glare at him, catching my breath and collecting myself.

"I'm not going to puke," I finally manage to say. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

He just takes another hit off his cigarette, exhaling slowly, almost deliberately.

"Last time I checked, this is a free country," he replies, dryly.

"I mean, in the dark out here all alone. It's fucking creepy," I bite back.

"You would understand why I'm out here if you had Tanya practically dry humping you all night," he answers.

I just laugh, the motion causing my head to swim. I steady myself against his car, trying not to look like I'm drunk. Like I have my shit together.

"It's better than having Mike Newton force feeding you Jell-o shots every time you turn around," I wrap my arms around myself, the air had began to grow cooler.

He shrugs, nodding at the same time, "Touche."

We stand in silence, both of us unsure of what to say next. Emmett is easy to talk to, always joking around, making everything fun. Edward is another story. He is intimidating, scary almost. Like anything you said had the potential to set him off. He acts like how I would expect Jacob to act, knowing everything I did about him. I wonder if this is how Jacob had been when we first met, if I would have fallen for him.

He runs his fingers through his hair, causing it to become even more unruly. From the way the moonlight hits him, he appears almost angelic-like. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me, what he thinks of me. If I'm just another one of Alice's annoying friends. Ugly, puny, clumsy Bella.

I'm about to speak when I hear footsteps on the gravel approaching us. I can feel him before I see him. The sense of dread hitting me suddenly, constricting my chest, fear seizing me. It's as if my body has memorized the sound of his gait, reacting unconsciously to it.

"Bella?" his voice calls out.

He approaches us slowly, as if he's assessing the situation before him. It can't look good. Edward and I are both leaning against the Volvo. Not close enough to raise anyone else's eyebrows, but close enough to raise Jacob's.

"Jacob," I answer, walking forward to meet him.

He looks from me to Edward, his eyes moving over Edward's tall form.

"Who is this?" he asks.

"Edward," a hand comes out to my side.

Edward is reaching out to shake Jacob's hand, introducing himself before I have the chance to.

"Cullen?" Jacob just stares at his hand.

I can see the wheels turning in his head as he connects this Edward Cullen with the one that my friends had been talking about weeks earlier.

"The one and only," Edward drops his hand back to his side.

Jacob's gaze turns to me, as if he just realized I have been standing here the whole time. He looks from my face, down to my clothes. Taking in my appearance, a scowl forming on his forehead.

"What are you wearing?" He asks.

"Alice picked it out," I respond quickly, defensively. "She thought you might like it."

I hear the tone of my voice, the same tone I always use when I know what's about to happen. The only difference is, this time Edward is here. Jacob wouldn't dare.

Edward looks uncomfortable, slowly stepping away from the two of us as if to excuse himself. Jacob, on the other hand, steps closer. He reaches out, wrapping his hand tightly around my wrist.

"Lets go," his voice low, calm.

But I know that appearances aren't everything and he is anything but calm right now. He pulls my arm forcefully.

"Whoa, easy there," Edward says, placing his hand on Jacob's shoulder.

I cringe, looking away. Not knowing what to expect, not having ever witnessed anyone stand up to Jacob even remotely. When I hear nothing but silence, I look back over to see the two of them staring harshly at each other. Jacob's eyes move from Edward to the hand on his arm.

"Take your hand off me," he growls.

"Take your hand off her," Edward responds.

"I know how to handle my girlfriend," Jacob answers, shaking Edward's hand off him.

Edward just looks at him, not breaking eye contact.

"Yeah, I bet you do."

Jacob just laughs, pulling my arm to follow him. I feel my face burning with shame, that I had let this situation happen. I should've known better than to wear this outfit, should've known better than to hang out with Edward alone, in the dark.

"Bella," Edward says, sounding more like a question than comment.

I stop walking and turn around to face him. Jacob's grip tightens even more, if that is possible. I try to make the grimace on my face look like a smile as I look back at Edward.

"Goodnight, Edward," I say, then continue on with Jacob into the blackness.

Jacob and I walk in silence. I allow him to lead me to his car, parked somewhere closer to the road. There are no words necessary, I can feel the rage radiating off him. When we approach the car, he stops us.

"What the hell was that?" he asks, his hand not leaving my wrist.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know he'd be out there. I was just trying to get some air, I swear," my voice is pleading.

His face holds a look of utter disgust. I am disgusting, I agree.

"Yeah right," he laughs, but no amusement is evident. "You're obviously trying to get his attention, you're dressed like a whore."

I let a small sob escape my lips.

"Oh, come on," he continues. "Don't even act like you're innocent. When is the last time you ever wore something like that?"

He's right. I should've known better.

"I wore it for you," I reply.

He just shakes his head, not believing one word I'm saying. I can see why, he hears my friends talking about some fake feelings they seem to think I have for Edward and then he catches the two of us hanging out alone, with me wearing something I would've only worn in my former life as Forks High's Golden Girl.

"You're only making it worse for yourself by lying," he releases my wrist.

I rub the spot where his hand just was, practically feeling the wound forming its mark. The smack across my face comes before I can even prepare for it. My entire body falls backwards against his car, the side mirror jabbing into my back.

"Why do you make me do these things, Bella?" he asks, his face inches from mine.

I can feel his breath hot on my face, coming out in ragged huffs. His eyes are so dark, they're almost black. He presses his lips to mine, forcefully, possessively. His hands are all over; they're in my hair, pushing my head closer to his. Then they're rubbing over my chest, grabbing and squeezing. There is no love, no gentleness. It is rough and raw and hurts.

"I'm sorry," I beg. "Please, I'm sorry."

He pushes me farther against the car, a shriek escapes my lips as the mirror digs further into my spine.

"Shut up," he says, pushing his tongue in my mouth as his hands roam over my thighs.

He pulls me to him so that he can rub against me more easily. I let him, feeling a tear slide down my cheek.

He steps away after a minute, catching his breath.

I bite my lips, pressing them so hard together I feel blood pool in my mouth. I whimper. He grabs my arms, shaking me as he keeps repeating, "shut up, shut up, shut up."

"Jacob," I start, but before I can finish he shoves me onto the gravel.

The small rocks stab me as I land.

"Get up," his foot kicks my thigh where his hands were just moments ago. I wrap myself into a ball.

"Get up," he repeats, this time kicking my back.

I wait a few seconds, bracing myself for another kick, but it never comes. I open my eyes slowly, Jacob nowhere in sight. I hear his car start as I sit up.

"Get in the car, Bella," he says, leaning over the passenger seat to yell at me from the window.

I stand, my thigh burning in pain as I do. It hurts to walk, but I don't show that to Jacob. He doesn't need to see my weakness, it would only anger him more.

I sit in the car, putting my seatbelt on, everything hurting.

No words are spoken as we drive.

We reach my house in under 15 minutes.

"I love you," he says as he presses his lips to mine, gentle this time. Lovingly.

I kiss him back, wanting so bad for him to be that Jacob that everyone else sees.

"I love you too."

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><p><strong>AN: **Thanks for the feedback, let me know what you think of this one. I already have the last chapter written, it's just a matter of filling in the space between.


	8. Brick

I own nothing _Twilight_-related.

Just a heads up, it gets darker before it gets lighter.

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>** - Brick**

"That is one nasty bruise, Bells," Dad says, handing me the bowl of green beans.

I don't look up from my plate, feeling Jacob's eyes on my from the other side of the kitchen table. Tension suddenly fills the room and I wonder if I'm the only one feeling it.

"Yeah, I know," I respond, rubbing my wounded cheek. "One day I will learn how to walk on a flat surface without managing to injure myself."

Mom and Dad just laugh.

"I keep telling her it's left foot, right foot," Jacob joins in their laughter. "We need to get you some protective head gear. Like a helmet or something."

I chew on my pork chops, the movement of my jaw causing a stinging sensation on the side of my face. I swallow roughly.

"I'll just have to be more careful from now on," I look at Jacob, an easy grin on his face.

_It was Saturday afternoon when Jacob showed up on my front porch, flowers and stuffed animal in hand. I stepped onto the porch, shutting the door quietly behind me, and continued walking down the stairs. I couldn't risk either of my parents hearing the inevitable conversation that I knew was about to take place. My thigh was pounding as I moved, causing a slight limp in my step. _

"_Bella," he started once we came to a stop by my truck. _

_I just stood with my head down, arms crossed over my chest. _

"_Look at me," he said, gently lifting my face with his fingers. _

_Our eyes met and I saw nothing but pain and sadness and remorse looking back at me. It was the same look he always gave the day after, when he realized what he had done. When he realized he was no different than his father. _

"_You know I didn't want to do that," he began. "I just can't stand the thought of some other guy drooling over you. And you had that outfit on. I just lost it."_

_He carefully rubbed his hands down my arms, taking my hands in his. _

"_It was my fault, Alice convinced me to wear that shirt," I finally spoke. "I just wanted to look nice for you."_

"_And you did baby, you did," he replied. "But I'm the only one who needs to see that, okay? Guys are idiots and when you dress like that, it gives them the wrong idea."_

_I just nodded my head, agreeing with his words. I wanted to tell him that not one guy at the party had given me a second glance, but decided against it. _

_He pulled me in for a hug, locking his arms around my back. I felt like my ribs were being crushed in, my back now completely one giant bruise after his kicks. _

"_It's okay, I forgive you," he whispered in my ear. _

I pull myself out of my memory, focusing on the conversation going on around me. Jacob is telling my dad about the camping trip he's going on this weekend with his friends. Mom is just as enthralled, hanging onto his every word.

"It's like a wilderness survival thing," he's saying. "Dad and Harry Clearwater are driving us out to the outskirts of the Reservation Wednesday night. We have to make it back to the house by Sunday night."

He shovels some food in his mouth before turning to me, "That reminds me, Bella, I'm not going to be able to pick you up or drop you off at school this week. We have to spend a few days in this survival class, it's like 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday."

I had forgotten the trip was this weekend, suddenly remembering the Death Cab concert was also this Saturday.

"What are guys doing about food and water?" Mom asks, interrupting my thoughts.

"We have to use the resources of the woods," Jacob answers, taking in another spoonful of beans into his mouth.

"I like that," Dad adds. "Real men should be able to handle themselves in the wild like that, living off the land. Kids today have it too easy."

I beg to differ.

OoOoOoOoO

Monday comes and with it, the burden of having to lie to every single person I know about why my cheek looks like it was struck with a baseball bat. Why I'm limping like a handicapped person. And also why I disappeared from the party so early.

I make it to my locker before the interrogations begin.

"Isabella Swan," I hear Alice's voice come up behind me. "Where the hell have you been and why haven't you returned any of my phone calls?"

"Hmmnnmm. . ." I mumble.

"I'm sorry, what? I don't speak 'Head Buried In Locker', English please," I can hear her foot tapping against the linoleum, impatiently.

I sigh, having known this would be coming. She had been calling my cell phone non-stop since about 1 a.m. on Saturday. Around 2 p.m. she resorted to calling my home, where I had my mother tell her I was not in. I hadn't called her back at all, not having the courage to face her. Too scared to find out if Edward had said anything to her.

I reluctantly turn to face her, keeping my head to the ground.

"Well?" she asks.

It's then that I look up, her face quickly shifting from 'pissed off' to 'holy shit.'

"Oh my god, what happened to your face?" she gasps.

It's then that I also notice Edward, roughly five feet away where his locker is located. I don't look directly at him, but I can see him sharply turn towards our direction at Alice's words.

"It's nothing," I answer, my voice shaking slightly. Alice doesn't seem to notice.

"Nothing? What'd you do? Have a run-in with someone's fist?" she gently places her hand on my cheek.

I can feel Edward's eyes, glaring at me. Like he knows.

"No, nothing like that. I just had a little too much to drink at the party, ended up face-planting it into the ground," I shrug her hand off. "You know me, I could've been stone sober and done the same thing."

I risk a look at Edward, who is staring daggers at me. What the hell is his problem? My life is none of his business.

"Why didn't you come get me? We could've found a ride home," her voice is full of concern and I feel like a piece of shit for lying to her.

"I didn't want to drag you away," I start. "Besides, Jacob came and got me."

At the mention of Jacob, a loud crash sounds from our left. Edward had slammed his locker shut, storming off down the hallway. Alice and I just look after him.

"What the hell was that about?" I ask, pushing my own locker shut behind me.

She leans closer to me, as though she's about to share a secret.

"Did something happen between Jacob and Edward Friday night?" she whispers.

I appreciate her discretion. Word spreads fast at Forks High and the last thing I need is some made-up feud between Edward and my boyfriend getting around.

"What do you mean?" I find myself leaning closer to her as well, lowering my voice.

"It was the weirdest thing. He came into my room Saturday afternoon-or as I affectionately referred to it as, The Hangover From Hell-and told me. . .no, demanded that I stay away from Jacob Black," she crosses her arms over her chest, unconsciously putting up a guard.

I want to tell her that she's right to put up any sort of protection when it comes to Jacob, but I don't.

"Really?" I say thoughtfully, "I have no idea, I didn't see anything."

She looks at me a little skeptically, as though I'm attempting to protect Edward from her wrath. _No Alice,_ I say to myself, _it's Jacob I'm protecting. _

"When I asked him to explain himself, he just walked off. It was the strangest thing," she replied, then got a wicked smile. "I think maybe someone's a little jealous."

I look at her, clearly confused as to what she's implying.

"Edward. Jealous of Jacob," she giggles. "I think Edward might have a thing for you."

To me, that sounds more absurd than if I outright told her that Jacob dragged me away from Edward that night and proceeded to beat the living piss out of me just a few hundred yards from the party.

"Alice, are you sure you're not the one who fell and hit your head that night?"

By the time fourth period rolls around, I'm already exhausted from trying to keep my lies straight. My other leg is starting to hurt from having to overcompensate for the injured one. My brain feels like it's ready to explode. I just want to run away, to escape this town and everyone in it, even for just a few hours.

"Yeah, I got it," I hear a voice say as I enter the bathroom.

Victoria Laurent is perched ontop of one of the sinks, talking on her cell phone. Something strictly forbidden during school hours.

I don't mention this to her, she would probably kick my ass before I finished the sentence.

"No, it's good, trust me," she's saying, eyeing me as I walk up to the sink next to her. "You know I don't buy the cheap shit."

She continues on, laughing at something the person on the other line says. I hurriedly reapply my foundation, hoping to make myself resemble an actual human being and not a punching bag.

"Jesus, Swan," Victoria snaps her phone shut, hopping off the sink. "What the hell happened to you?"

I inwardly roll my eyes, not feeling like having to explain myself to someone, let alone Victoria. To be honest, she scares me. She's a fiery redhead who is famous for her mouth-not just for its ability to talk back to teachers, but also its abilities with the teenaged boys of Forks.

"UPI," I answer. She looks at me, waiting for further explanation. "Unidentified Party Injury. You know, Newton's house on Friday."

She laughs, probably having had her own fair share of drunken accidents in which she's woken up the next morning wondering how the hell that bruise got there.

"It looks like it hurts like hell," she pulls out a cigarette from her back pocket, offering me one.

I consider turning her down, but figure it's probably best not to refuse her kindness when she's offering it. She's not someone whose bad side you want to get on.

"Here," she holds her lighter up to my mouth, where she's placed the cigarette. "Don't inhale your first time."

I want to ask her how she knows it's my first cigarette, then remember that I'm Bella Swan: Ms. All-American. I suck sharply on the stick, causing a sudden cough and urge to vomit.

"Easy, easy," she reaches into her book bag and pulls out a bottle of water. "Here, drink this."

I chug down a few sips, gaining back my sense of composure.

"It does," I respond, then continue off her look. "My cheek. It does hurt like hell."

She's the only one I've admitted this to. To everyone else, I'm fine. I'm great, even.

She looks at me for a second, then turns back to her bag. I feel like I'm in Mary Poppins, wondering what she's going to pull out of there next. This time it's a pill bottle, with no prescription label on the side.

"What are those?" I ask warily.

"OxyContin," she opens the bottle, shaking one out, then waiting a second as if mentally debating with herself before shaking out four more. "Take one, the rest are for later use."

I take the pills from her hand, staring at them. I've heard about OxyContin in health class. It's a gateway drug for heroin. I've never actually seen it in real life before, but it doesn't surprise me that she has them. In addition to being well known for her mouth, Victoria is also well known for her recreational drug use.

"Come on," she prods. "It'll make you feel better. Think of it as a trip to Wonderland."

She hands me back her bottle of water, waiting for me to make up my mind: to step back or jump off the cliff. To catch the train or leave the station. This is my chance to escape, even for just a little bit.

"Down the rabbit hole I go," I whisper, swallowing the tablet down.

I decide that attending the rest of my classes for the day is pointless, as I can barely focus on one thing. I feel so free from my body that it feels like I could fly. I want to run and never stop. I want to laugh and weep at the same time. In this world, there is no pain and no hurt. There is just numbness and happiness and relief.

I sit in the driver's seat of my truck, waiting to come down from the high and, at the same time, hoping I never do. I don't know how long I've been sitting here when I hear a sharp pounding. For a second, I'm almost positive I'm hearing the sound of my own heart beat.

Tap. Tap Tap.

Wait, shouldn't it be bump-bump, bump-bump.

"Bella?" A voice floats in through the fog.

It sounds vaguely familiar and I turn to look at my radio, wondering how it's talking to me.

"Edward?" I say to it. "What are you doing in there?"

There's a sigh and then my door opens. I realize Edward is not, in fact, inside my radio but standing outside my truck. This knowledge makes me burst out laughing.

"Are you high?" he asks, leaning closer to look at my pupils.

His breath is the same mix of peppermint and cigarette smoke I remember from that night on the dock. I lean as far back in my seat as I can, away from him.

"You can't be here," I say, pushing him away.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asks, stepping back.

"You're not allowed to be here," I grip the steering wheel, trying to fight off the wave of dizziness that has suddenly hit me.

He huffs angrily, putting out the cigarette I didn't realize he was still holding. I try to keep my eyes forward, focusing on the tree in front of me. It appears to be moving closer and I shake my head, knowing it's in my imagination. I put my hand on my keys, starting the engine.

"Are you seriously thinking about driving right now?" his voice seems far away and so close all at once.

"I need to go home," I tell him, reaching to shut my door.

"If you think I'm letting you drive out of this fucking parking lot, you're crazy," he grabs the door from me. "My mom could be out on the road right now, for all we know. Not to mention your mom or, better yet, your Chief of Police father."

The man has a point.

I turn the car off, grabbing my backpack and sliding out of the truck past him. He is left standing there with his jaw hanging as I make my way on foot out of the parking lot.

"What are you doing?" he asks, chasing after me.

"What does it look like? Walking," I reply, ignoring him and continuing on.

I make it less than a mile down the road before I hear a car slowly down on the road beside me. I know without looking that it's Edward.

"Bella, get in the car," he demands.

I stop walking, turning towards him, a scowl on my face.

"Do not tell me what to do," I don't know where that comes from, but it feels good to say.

"Please," he's begging now. "You can't walk around in this state, something could happen to you."

"Is that genuine concern I'm hearing from _the _Edward Cullen?" I feign shock.

"Yes, but not for you," he bites back. "Alice doesn't need to lose anymore friends."

That stops me. I want to ask what he means. I want to ask why the Cullens moved here. I want to ask why he's such an asshole to me. I want to ask if he knows how hot he looks when he's pissed.

I don't.

Instead I walk over to the passenger side and get in. The car smells and looks brand new, immaculately kept. I wouldn't expect any less from him.

He turns up the radio as we drive and I want to ask him how he knows the way to my house.

I don't.

I lean my head against the window, staring at the scenery as it passes us. My high has finally started to wear off and suddenly I'm exhausted all over again. The pain is back with more force, the short taste of freedom from it only heightened its return.

It would never go away, it would always be here. The OxyContin only reinforced the loneliness that I feel, showing me the joy and laughter that everyone else gets to experience without the aid of a drug.

"Now that I have found someone, I'm feeling more alone than I ever have before," I sing along softly to the radio.

"She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly," Edward's voice surprises me as he sings the next lyrics of the song.

Neither of us say anything as he turns down my street, coming to a stop outside of my house. I want to thank him for the ride, but I'm suddenly so depressed that the words seem like too much of an effort to get out. We sit there for what seems like forever, but is probably just a few seconds.

"You should've told Alice to stay away from me, not Jacob," I say as I open the car door.

I slide out of the Volvo and turn to shut the door.

"Why do you say that?" he asks, leaning over the passenger seat to get a better view of me.

"I'm a brick."

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><p><strong>AN: **Let me know what you think. Playlist on my profile.


	9. Drugs or Me

I own nothing _Twlight._

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><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>** - Drugs or Me**

Thanksgiving shows up before I realize it. Somehow, the air had grown bitter and the leaves had all died seemingly over night. Nothing seems real, everything blending together in one long haze of hours and days and weeks. No one seems to notice that I'm slowly disappearing more and more, their focus on the holidays, on presents and cheer.

"Bella? Hello?" a hand waves in front of my face.

"Huh?" I respond, my focus on the lights of the radio.

Jacob just laughs, thinking I'm just tired from the stress of exams at school.

"You are so out of it," he says, his eyes on the road before us. "It's a good thing school is out, you can finally catch up on sleep."

I nod, my head resting against the window. Everything seems to be moving so slow and so fast all at once. I think back to yesterday at school.

_Victoria and I always met in the same bathroom, having long figured out that teachers never venture in here. She's sitting on the same sink she always is when I walk in. Over the past month and a half, we had formed some type of weird, quiet friendship in which we don't acknowledge each other outside of this space. _

"_Swan," she said, a cigarette dangling carelessly from her lips. "Did you kiss some pavement?"_

_I shrugged, not providing a response. That was the good thing about Victoria, she would never really care enough to go too in depth with her questions. Instead just skimming the surface. _

_I walked up to the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The girl that stared back at me was unrecognizable. Her hair was limp, her eyes were sunken in and covered in dark circles, her cheeks hollowed. Her lip was swollen from being slammed up against a wall just days earlier. _

_That wasn't the worst part, the worst was carefully hidden under layers and layers of cloth. The holidays were particularly hard on Billy Black, reminding him deeply of his wife, causing him to drink even more. Causing him to become more enraged with Jacob. Which, in turn, caused Jacob to get more enraged with me. For every shout Jacob received, I would receive the physical equivalent. _

_I didn't even bother looking at my body in the mirror anymore after getting out of the shower. There was no skin left that was unmarked. _

"_Here," Victoria said, handing me what she knew I came to her for. _

_It was a Ziploc bag filled with small pills. My freedom. The OxyContin had become my only source of comfort, the only light in a very dark room. _

"_Thanks," I took the bag, handing her a wad of cash. _

_Another couple hundred dollars I had taken from my college fund without my parents' knowledge. It didn't really matter. I wasn't going to live to see college anyway. _

Jacob drops me off at the bookstore before continuing on to Newton's Sporting Outfitters. I grab a black coffee at the little café attached to the store and take a seat in the back, hoping not to draw any attention to myself.

I flip through a magazine, not really reading anything on the pages. My concentration so unsteady that I can't focus on one thing for more than a few seconds at a time. I take a couple sips of my coffee, just to have something in my stomach. I suddenly remember I haven't eaten since the Pop-Tart I had for breakfast yesterday morning.

"Just humor me? Okay, son," I hear a woman's voice say from the other side of the bookcase next to me.

I put my head farther down, hoping not to spotted. Forks is a small town and I more than likely know the people on the other side of the shelf. I'm proven right when Esme Cullen steps around the corner, looking like she just emerged from the pages of Vogue.

"They said they had it in stock, it's got to be here somewhere," she's saying to someone still not in view.

I know before he shows himself who it will be. I can sense his presence, before he walks into a classroom or the lunchroom or some shitty bookstore in the middle of some shitty town. He doesn't see me, instead his eyes are scanning the books.

The last time we had spoke, it was the day of the Death Cab concert.

_I arrived at the Cullen house to pick up Alice, who was coming with me up to Seattle. I stood in her room as she ran around, trying to find something to wear. I had resigned myself to my standard jeans and hoodie combo, refusing her attempts to make me look "cute." I learned my lesson the last time I let her dress me._

"_What do you think of this one?" she asked, spinning around in a black dress._

"_Alice, we're going to a concert, not a fashion show," I joked, laughing at her as she continued to spin._

"_I know, but I have to look good. You never know who you'll run into," she winked at me, going back into her closet. _

_I sat on her bed, hugging one of her pillows to my chest. After my run-in with Edward on Monday, I had decided that OxyContin was not the drug for me. Even if it did make the hurt stop, it was too dangerous to be left that vulnerable to other people. I was too afraid I would slip and accidentally say something to someone that I shouldn't. _

"_Hey ladies," Emmett appeared in the doorway, a huge grin on his face. "You ready?"_

_I looked at him, confused. _

"_I'm driving you guys up to Seattle," he responded. "Edward and I want to check out the scene up there, plus dad all but threatened us. He doesn't want Alice in the city alone."_

_I had been to Seattle more times than I could count and a dangerous city, it was not. I don't say this, I just nod. It's sweet that Carlisle worries about Alice like that._

"_Okay, I think I found it," Alice walked out of the closet in a much more sensible jeans/t-shirt outfit. "What do you think?"_

"_Perfect," I smiled at her. _

"_Yes, perfect. Now lets go!" Emmett said, leaving the room. "Edward! Get your ass down here!"_

_I could hear him bounding his way up to the third floor where Edward's bedroom was located. I had never been up to that level of the house, the entire floor belonged to Edward and from what I understood, no one aside from him ever went up there. _

"_You don't mind that Emmett and Edward are coming too, do you?" she asked, slipping her jacket on. _

_I did mind. Even if he was off somewhere in the middle of the woods, I was almost positive Jacob would somehow know. _

"_Of course not," I responded. _

_We loaded into Emmett's Jeep, Alice and I taking the backseat. Edward had yet to look at me or acknowledge my existence. _

"_So what is this band you're going to see? Taxi Cab?" Emmett asked as he turned onto the highway leading to Seattle. _

"_Death Cab for Cutie," Edward answered before I could get the words out. _

"_Never heard of them," he said. "What kind of music is it?"_

"_Alternative emo," I said, looking out the window. _

"_And Alice listens to this?" Emmett laughed. "I didn't think she had any albums that weren't Lady Gaga or Britney Spears." _

"_Well, I don't actually listen to the band. I'm more here for moral support," she replied, before reaching up to smack Emmett on the back of the head. "And I do not listen to Lady Gaga."_

_Emmett just rubbed the place where she had hit, acting like it hurt more than it did before saying, "That sounds more like something Edward would listen to."_

_I turned my head, looking over at Edward. I wasn't aware that we had the same taste in music, instead figuring him for a heavy metal-type. _

"_Yeah, he played me one of their songs on his guitar last night," Alice said, my eyes still staring at the back of Edward's head._

"_You play the guitar?" I heard myself asking._

"_Edward is a one-man band, he can play guitar, piano," Alice beamed, clearly proud of her brother's accomplishments. _

"_It's nothing," Edward said, still refusing to look at me. _

"_Do you really like Taxi Cab for Cutie," Alice asked, ignoring his modesty. _

"_Death Cab and yeah, they're pretty good," his voice gave nothing away. No excitement or interest. _

_Alice looked at me, as if silently asking me a question. I furrowed my brow, not sure what was going through her head. She silently pointed from Edward to herself and mouthed the words, "switch?"_

_It took me a second to realize what she was saying and before I could reply she was already speaking. _

"_I have an idea," she winked at me. "Why don't you take my ticket, Edward? Since you actually know the band. Emmett and I can find something to do for a few hours."_

"_You mean I have to willingly spend time with you?" Emmett groaned._

_It's then that Edward finally turned toward me, looking back at the two of us, his eyes still avoiding mine. I wanted to ask him what about me he found so repulsive that he couldn't even look at me. _

"_No, that's okay," he said, looking at Alice._

_Good. I didn't want you to come anyway._

"_Shut up, Edward," she replied. "I know you like them, just do it."_

_Edward finally looked at me, as if to ask "is this okay?" I wanted to say no. I wanted to say that if Jacob found out, I was afraid he would go crazy and this time I might not come out of it with just a couple bruises. _

"_You can come," I found myself saying. _

_He continued to look unsure, as if he was expecting me to suddenly change my mind. He ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up. Naturally, it only made him look more attractive. _

"_Okay," he said at last. _

_The concert was at a small venue in downtown Seattle. Alice and Emmett had dropped us off out front, telling us they'd be back in a few hours and then heading over to Pike Place Market. We awkwardly made our way into the venue, neither one of us speaking. I handed the door guy our tickets and we were ushered inside. It was crowded, the concert having sold out. _

"_You want a drink?" Edward asked, pointing towards the bar at the back of the room._

"_Sure," I answered. "Just get me whatever, I'll save our place here."_

_My stomach was turning, I knew that Jacob would find out about this one way or another. He always did. And what was worse was that I did nothing to stop it, when I knew better. It was like I was some kind of masochist, that I got off on the pain. _

"_I got us beer," Edward appeared to my left, holding out a cup._

_I'm about to ask him how he got beer when I remembered that he had a fake ID. I reached into my pocket to grab some money, but he stops me._

"_Don't worry about it," he waved his hand dismissively. "I owe you for the ticket anyway."_

_I wondered what Jacob would think, knowing that Edward had used the ticket that he had purchased. I could almost feel the impact of the hit I would receive. _

_It was about halfway through the set, the band in the midst of 'I Will Follow You Into The Dark', when I chanced a glance over at Edward. The room was dark, all the lights being focused on the band. I could still make out his profile, as he sang along silently to the lyrics. He was so beautiful to look at that it almost hurt. I wondered what Tanya would say if she knew I was at a concert with him, she'd probably have my head. _

_I wanted to ask him why he hated me as much as he did. I knew I wasn't anything special-not talented, not pretty, not worth anyone's attention. I was lucky to have Jacob, a fact that Jacob wasn't shy about reminding me of. I didn't deserve a guy like Edward or a guy like Emmett. I knew that with Jacob, I was getting everything I deserved and there was comfort in that._

_As if sensing my gaze on him, Edward turned to look at me. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't scowling either. We seemed to like a lot of the same things and, I imagine, in a different life, we could've been good friends. _

_Our eyes were locked, neither of us looking away as the band played on. I saw him momentarily look down at the bruise that was still prominent on my cheek, causing me to look down in shame. I stared down at my feet, my face burning with embarrassment that I was as weak as I was. That the evidence of my weakness was so clear on my face. _

_I suddenly felt his fingers under my chin, gently lifting up my face to look at his. His eyes were so clear, so green, full of an expression I couldn't name. _

"_Hey," he mouthed to me, his voice inaudible over the sound of the music. _

_I felt a sudden surge of panic come over me. This wasn't right, he shouldn't be touching me like that or looking at me like that. _

"_I have to go to the bathroom," I yelled over the noise. _

_I turned and shoved my way through the crowd, not looking back. I made it to the bathroom, splashing my face with cold water. There was no one else in here with me and I was grateful for the few moments of silence. The mirror reflected back a girl I barely knew, but the fear in her eyes was all too familiar. I just wanted to enjoy the concert, just wanted to have this one night of freedom. _

_It was then that I remembered the pills in my purse, the OxyContin Victoria has provided me with as a gift. I just needed something to help me relax, something to get me through the rest of this night without incident. I pulled out one of the tablets, staring at it as I did. Who knew freedom could come in such a small package. _

"_This is the last time," I told myself as I swallowed the pill, using water from the sink to help wash it down. _

_When I exited the bathroom, Edward was leaning against the wall just outside. For a second I thought that maybe he somehow saw me take the pill, but the smile on his face calms me. _

"_You okay?" he asked, very un-Edward-like. _

_I just nodded my head, brushing it off as misplaced concern for Alice once again. I started to walk passed him to go back out to the show, but he grabbed my hand holding me in place. It wasn't a threatening grab, it wasn't the grab Jacob used on me. It was gentle and soft. _

"_Bella," he said to me, my eyes on the stage in the room before me. "Hey, look at me."_

_I reluctantly turned to face him, unsure of where he was going with all of this. His eyes searched my face, as if he was looking for an answer to a question he never asked. _

_His attention was too dangerous, why didn't he realize that? _

_His mouth opened slightly, as if the words were on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't get them out. His hand came up to my face, his thumb ran over my cheek, tracing the bruise. His eyes were pained, like he was personally feeling the hit that had caused it. _

"_Tell me what you're hiding," he whispered. _

_I suddenly couldn't breathe, the air feeling as though it was being sucked out of the room. Everything was spinning and I had to close my eyes just to keep my balance. _

"_Don't you understand?" I whispered back, slowly opening my eyes. "I'm nothing. I'm no one." _

I had left him standing there in that club, the music still playing. I had taken a cab all the way back to Forks, much to my parents' dismay-it was a costly fare. I feigned being ill, saying that I had insisted the others stay back. I promised to repay my parents for the cab.

I ignored Alice's phone calls. I avoided her at school. It took a while, but she finally gave up. Edward just looked at me like I had punched him in the gut, which made no sense to me. Alice deserved a better friend, he should be happy that I was letting her go. Now he wouldn't have to worry about Jacob hurting his sister, I would take all the hits for her.

Jacob was happy with this development, saying it would give us even more time to spend together. _We don't need anyone else, _he had said. _We're enough for each other. _

"Bella?" I hear my name being called.

It feels like someone is always demanding my attention.

This time it's Esme Cullen, who appears to have spotted me crouched down in my chair.

"Hello," I wonder how fake the smile on my face looks.

She claps her hands together, excited to see me. I wonder what story Alice told her, why I never come around anymore. Edward turns his back to us.

"Sweetie, how are you? We haven't seen you in so long," she smiles, her face so bright.

"I've been really busy with school," I answer, suddenly fully aware of my appearance.

I've been working so hard to make myself as unnoticeable as possible, my clothes have begun to overtake me. I wonder if she thinks my parents are starving me or if I have an eating disorder. What would she do if she knew that I'm so sick to my stomach with fear all of the time, the thought of food makes me want to vomit.

"Edward, don't be rude," she nudges him. "Say hi."

He turns to look at me and he's as perfect as ever. The cold from outside giving a rosy tint to his cheeks. His winter jacket somehow managing to look sleek and stylish. My own makes me look like a giant marshmallow.

"You kids catch up, I'm going to go ask if they have the cookbook I'm looking for," she pushes Edward towards me and walks off to the information desk.

There's about a full sixty seconds of silence before he says, "You look like shit."

I just stare at him, dull listless eyes. I can't work up the energy to get mad or even offended at his words. It's true, after all.

He keeps looking at me, waiting for a reaction. I have nothing to give him.

"Are you alive in there?" he asks, crouching down so that we're eye level.

"Barely," I reply, gathering up my things as I stand up.

He rises, sticking his hands in his pockets. His eyes follow me as I put my coat on, zipping it up as high as it can go. The whole motion exhausts me, I need to hold onto the table to steady myself. When I feel confident enough, I let go and make my around Edward, who hasn't taken his eyes off me the entire time.

"I wish that you could see this face in front of me," he says suddenly.

He's quoting a lyric, I immediately recognize.

"You're so blind," I respond. "You can't save me this time."

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><p>Thank you for the feedback, please let me know what you think of this chapter.<p> 


	10. Love The Way You Lie Part 2

I own nothing _Twlight._

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><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>** - Love The Way You Lie (Part 2)**

"Bella!" My mom had yelled this morning to make sure I was awake.

"Bella," Jacob had smiled at me as I slid into his car.

"Bella?" Mr. Parker had asked during Biology. "Bella?"

I felt a tap on my shoulder and suddenly I realize I'm still in Biology and Mr. Parker is still calling my name. Jessica and some of my other former-friends giggle, and I hear one of them whisper the word "burnout."

"Are you with us?" Mr. Parker asks, from his position by the chalkboard.

No.

"Yes," I reply.

He just smiles at me apologetically, as if he's sorry for even bothering to acknowledge my existence. I don't mind. It reminds me that I'm still alive.

With Christmas break just weeks away, everyone else has also already mentally checked out so I don't seem like that much of a loser in comparison. The lecture resumes in front of me, and I'm free to once again let my mind wander.

I lose myself in my thoughts, my escape from this world, my memories. And I'm finding it harder and harder to pull myself out of them because at least with the memories, I know what's coming and what to expect.

_Jacob had showed up at my house one night at 2 a.m. He had thrown some rocks up at my window to get my attention. I came down to meet him and we sat in his car. He didn't speak, didn't say one word. He just cried and I held him. _

_I didn't need to know what had happened, the bruise forming on his temple was explanation enough for me. It was then that I realized I could never get away. We were one in the same, two broken pieces that somehow fit together. His father had broken him and, in turn, he had broken me. The only difference between us was that he had me to cry to and I had no one. _

_I was screaming for help and no one could hear me. _

I'm walking towards the parking lot when I feel a presence beside me. It's foreign, but familiar at the same time.

"Hey," Emmett's voice fills my ears.

"Hey," I reply, continuing on.

We must look like quite the pair, his gigantic frame coupled with my meek one. I could feel the eyes of everyone on us as we walk down the hallway.

I don't say anything, instead waiting in silence for him to tell me what he wants so I can exit the building and make it to Jacob's car without him seeing the two of us together.

2:36 p.m.

"Are you doing okay?" he asks, putting his hand on my shoulder to halt my movements.

"Yes," I reply dully, sick of that question. Sick of every question.

He just stares at me for another minute, as if he's trying to think of something else to say. I want to tell him it's okay, we were never really friends to begin with so he doesn't have to pretend concern.

2:38 p.m.

"Alice is really worried about you," he goes on.

The shock must be evident on my face, because he continues.

"I know something happened between you two, but she cares a lot about you," he runs his fingers through his short hair in a very Edward-like move.

"She shouldn't worry about me, I'm fine," I repeat the same lie I give everyone when they bother to ask. "I just have a lot going on right now."

2:40 p.m.

"I need to go," I say, pushing his hand off me and walking away.

I push through the doors leading to the parking lot, feeling the soft drops of rain hit my face. Jacob isn't here yet, another afternoon safely made to the willow tree.

"Bella, wait," Emmett jogs up beside me, following me to the tree.

I freeze, not having realized he was still behind me. He needs to leave, he needs to leave now.

2:42 p.m.

"Emmett, I'm fine," I plead. "Please, let me be."

He just shakes his head, not accepting my answer. Doesn't he realize that he's doing more harm than good?

"No you're not," he steps in front of me, standing between me and the parking space. "Edward is worried about you, he doesn't say it but I can tell in the way that he looks at you. Bella, Edward doesn't worry about anyone but himself."

He's trying to press into me the significance in Edward showing concern for another actual human being, but all I can see is Jacob's car pulling into the lot behind him.

2:44 p.m.

Before I can get another word out, Jacob has parked and is out of his car, coming to stand between me and Emmett.

"Is there a problem here?" Jacob asks, putting his arm protectively around my shoulders.

Emmett steps back, clearly surprised by Jacob's sudden appearance. I'm not. I know that Jacob can appear out of anywhere within the drop of a hat.

"No, man," Emmett puts up his hands defensively. "I just wanted to see if Bella was okay."

I want to tell Emmett to shut up. To stop worrying. To get out of here so I could deal with the consequences of the situation he has created for me.

"Bella's fine," Jacob's voice is full of controlled calm, but I know it is all a show. He is seething.

"Why don't you let her answer?" Edward suddenly comes up next to Emmett.

I want to start crying, I want to shout, I want to yell. _Don't you see what you are doing? You're trying to help but you're only making it worse. _Every word they say is another hit, another mark, another bruise.

Jacob just looks at me, waiting for my response. I can feel his grip on my shoulders tighten. He doesn't need to worry, I know that I need to protect him. He is all I have.

"I'm fine," I repeat my earlier comment. "Lets go, Jacob."

Emmett just laughs, not a funny laugh but a "is this for real?" laugh and turns to go. It doesn't take much to convince him to mind his own business. Edward doesn't budge from his spot. He looks at Jacob, seeing something that I don't. I can see his eyes, at first I see a note of genuine fear which is quickly replaced with pure hatred.

"Edward, come on man," Emmett has stopped a few feet away, having realized Edward hasn't been following him. "It's not worth it."

He's right, I'm not worth it.

Edward looks at Jacob for a few seconds longer before his gaze turns to me. The hatred drains out of his eyes and there is a sadness in them now that I have never seen before.

"I'm sorry," he says, turning to go.

Jacob pushes me towards his car forcefully and I'm not even afraid anymore. I'm resigned to what is coming because I should've known better.

For the first time, the punch comes before we're even fully out of the school parking lot and I think to myself, _it won't be too much longer now. He's getting less careful. _

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The snow starts to fall around midnight. I sit in a chair by my window, watching each flake as it makes its way to Earth. Each one so unique on its own before joining the others on the ground, becoming unrecognizable and unremarkable.

I hold my arm close to my chest, the pain radiating through it even hours later. I'm pretty sure this is the closest Jacob's ever come to breaking a bone.

My iPod player is quietly playing music next to me, creating a soundtrack to the night.

_On the first page of our story,_

_The future seemed so bright._

_Then this thing turned out so evil,_

_I don't know why I'm still surprised._

_Even angels have their wicked schemes,_

_And you take that to new extremes._

_But you'll always be my hero,_

_Even though you've lost your mind._

I'm in my truck driving before I realize what I'm actually doing. The OxyContin has a way of doing that, controlling my actions and I'm just along for the ride.

I don't know where I'm going, I just drive, letting my mind figure out where it wants to go. The snow has started covering the roads, causing them to become slick. My truck fishtails when I come to a stop at the only redlight in town. There are no other people out on the roads, the town of Forks goes to bed early.

I try to drive ten and two, the way my father showed me when he first taught me how to drive, but the movement sends a searing pain up my injured arm.

For some reason, I am not surprised when I finally come to a stop in front of The Lake Mansion. I cut the lights, not wanting to wake any of the house's occupants. I step out of the truck, pulling my coat closer to my body. The snow keeps falling, flake by flake.

My feet crunch against the frozen grass as I make my way towards the dock. It's so dark, I have to move extra slowly to keep from hitting a patch of ice. How funny, after everything, to die from falling into the lake and drowning.

I can tell that the water has started to freeze and I wonder how long I would last in there. I make my way to the end of the dock, the snow has slowed down, just tiny flakes falling now. I move to sit, but lose my balance, catching myself by throwing my hands in front of me. They hit the dock hard and the force sends fire up my arm. I hear a scream sound out, echoing through the darkness. It takes me a second to realize it was my own scream and I bite my lip to keep from further crying out.

I watch the house to see if any lights come on, but none do. The snow soaks the seat of my jeans as I sit, legs crossed. I cradle my arm, letting the tears fall for the first time since Jacob hurt it. I had been trying to protect my head, but he had grabbed my arm, twisting it until we had both heard the snapping noise. The OxyContin had made me feel nothing, but it was now wearing off and the pain was excruciating.

My parents hadn't noticed the pained expression on my face throughout all of dinner. Or maybe they were just so use it, they thought it was my regular face.

My chest heaves in sobs, uncontrollable. How did I get here? Who have I become?

I put my head in my lap, letting the tears overcome me. Everything hurts all of the time, I just want it to stop.

A hand suddenly touches my shoulder and I jerk upward, startled and embarrassed.

"Hey," Edward has lowered himself so that his face is inches from my own.

I turn away, wiping the tears from my cheek. I try to stop them from coming, but they just continue.

"God, you're shaking," Edward says, his breath coming out in puffs. "You're soaking wet, Bella."

I try to speak, but nothing comes out.

"Can you stand?" he asks, rising.

It's then that I notice he's dressed in nothing but pajama pants, a t-shirt and a pair of slippers. And I thought I was the crazy one.

I move to stand, but as soon as my arm reaches to brace myself against the dock, I cry out in pain. Edward doesn't say anything, he just reaches down, picking me up. He cradles me while I cradle my arm. There are no more questions or words as he makes his way up the stairs, to the house. There are no lights on and he doesn't move to turn any on as he makes his way through the rooms.

I want to protest, to insist that he let me walk, but there is nothing. I am nothing.

He carries me up to the elusive third level of the house that I've always been curious about, but never dared ask to see. He hugs me tight to his body and it reminds me that I haven't been hugged in so long. It feels good and warm and safe.

He sets me gently on his bed, taking my shoes and jacket off as he does. He's careful not to disturb my arm too much, but even the slightest movement is painful. I feel warmth coming up around me as he pulls his blanket over top of me.

It's still pitch black in the room when I wake up. I glance at the clock and see that it's 3:34 a.m. I have slept for a couple of hours, but it feels like minutes. My entire body aches as I stretch, holding my arm to my chest as I sit up.

As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I can see Edward lying on the couch on the other side of the room. He's lightly snoring and his shirt has ridden up, revealing a sliver of skin. He even looks stunning in his sleep. Asshole.

I find my shoes next to the bed and quietly work to slip them on, which is a lot harder to do with one hand. I grab my coat and think I'm home-free when the room suddenly illuminates in soft light. Edward is standing by his desk, having turned on the lamp.

"Where are you going?" he asks, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Home," I answer, then make my way towards the door.

He's in front of me instantly, holding the door closed.

"Are you serious? Bella, you need to get your arm looked at," he says, looking down at my arm now hanging limply at my side.

"I just sprained my wrist, it's nothing," I move to push passed him.

He doesn't budge.

"And you just fell and hit your cheek on the ground? And you bumped your leg on the edge of a table? And bashed your lip too hard on a cup?"

I glare up at him, feeling rage fill me.

"You don't know anything," I fire back.

"I know more than you think."

I just shake my head in disbelief, everything is crashing down and it feels like I'm suffocating under the weight of my own lies.

"Just let my dad look at your arm and then you can go," he reaches out to touch my cheek, but I step back before he can.

"This isn't just some fire you can put out," I see the hurt in his eyes at my words. "This isn't the kind of break you can fix."

We both know I'm not talking about my arm.

"I can't just stand here and watch you burn," he says, more gently now. More careful.

I want to hug him, to tell him that he's the first person in so long that has actually cared. That has actually looked at me and saw something. That hasn't just accepted the lies I told him and went on with his life.

But I don't.

"I'm already ashes," I smile sadly at him.

Before he can respond, I move around him and open the door, not looking back as I quickly and quietly leave the house. The snow has picked back up, falling in giant flakes, so big they almost look fake. I brush off my windshield as fast as I can, afraid Edward will come after me to try and stop me again.

Forks looks like a town straight out of a fairy tale as I drive through it. It's still too early for anyone else to be up, the snow still sits on the ground untouched, undestroyed.

You would never be able to tell that there is so much damage and decay underneath it all, everything looks so perfect.

This is my last thought before I hit the patch of black ice.

This is my last thought as the truck flips over and over.

This is my last thought before everything turns dark.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I probably won't have the next part up for at least a few days. I know, sorry, I suck. Please let me know what you think.


	11. My Blue Heaven

I own nothing _Twilight._

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><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>** - My Blue Heaven**

Pain. Everywhere.

This is my first thought when I come to.

Copper, rust and gasoline.

These are the first things I smell.

Blood.

This is the first thing I see.

I try to move, but my legs are pinned under the steering wheel. I try screaming for help, but no sound comes out of my mouth.

So this is how I die.

Next time I come to, I hear voices and sirens and a radio.

"I can't get the door open, we need more help," a voice is saying.

"Jesus, there's so much blood," another voice says.

"Has anyone called Chief Swan?" the first voice asks.

"Tell him to meet us at the hospital, he doesn't need to see his daughter like this."

Everything is blurry, seemingly moving in slow-motion. I'm so tired.

I feel someone pulling me and then it all goes black again.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I open my eyes, wincing when the light hits them and my head pounds so much I think I might black out again.

". . .significant internal bleeding," a voice says. A familiar voice.

Dr. Cullen?

". . .found OxyContin in her system. Is she prescribed that?" he is still talking.

"OxyContin? What? No," my mother's voice is frantic.

I want to open my eyes to look at them, but it hurts too much to do anything.

"Excuse me, Dr. Cullen?" an unfamiliar voice.

"Oh yes," Dr. Cullen says. "Chief Swan, Mrs. Swan. This is Kate Garrett. She's with Child Protective Services."

"Child Protective Services?" my dad's voice confused. "What the hell is this about?"

"Bella appears to have been suffering from ongoing physical trauma," the woman's voice states. "We've found evidence of abuse. Bruises, cuts."

"Oh, that?" my mom dismisses. "Bella is just really clumsy, she always has been."

No, I haven't.

"Ma'am, no offense, but there is no way that the trauma we found could be accidental. There is clear evidence of wounds that are both old and new. The extent of them are consistent with other cases of abuse that I've come across," she doesn't sound rude, just that she knows what she's talking about.

I want to tell them that I'm here, that I can hear them but there is something shoved down my throat that keeps me from calling out.

"We've also found a drug in her system, OxyContin, that is used to treat chronic pain," the woman continues.

"I do not hit my daughter," my father's voice is angry. "Like my wife said, she's just clumsy. She's had her fair share of accidents."

"We took some photos when she was brought in, for the report," Dr. Cullen speaks again, and I hear the shuffling of papers. "I'd like you to take a look at them. Please keep in mind that these are extremely graphic and clearly show the proof of ongoing physical abuse."

There's silence and I imagine he is showing my parents images what is underneath my carefully chosen clothes I've been using as armor against any sort of detection of Jacob's rage.

"Oh my god," I hear my mother say, before breaking into full hysterics.

I feel sleep pulling at me, dragging me back under. I want to fight it, to hear the rest of their conversation, but sometimes it just feels better to give in.

_I am running down a hallway, lockers lining the length of it. I can see the door all the way at the end, the light flooding in through its windows. I run towards it faster, but the faster I go, the further it gets from me. _

_I can feel my chest tightening up, the fear setting in. I can't reach the door no matter how hard I try. It's so far away, I want to give up. But the terror keeps my legs moving, keeps me going. _

I jerk awake, my chest heaving as though I had actually been running.

A hand gently touches my arm.

"Shh," Esme Cullen is sitting next to my bed. "You're safe, child. You are safe."

I lick my lips, realizing that whatever had been down my throat before has now been removed. My mouth feels like sandpaper.

"Let me get you some water," she disappears for a second, coming back with a Styrofoam cup.

She holds it up to my lips and I sip it eagerly. I use this opportunity to get a glimpse of my body. I can't see anything really, the hospital blanket is pulled up to my waist. I try to move my legs, but nothing happens. I try again, still nothing.

Esme must sense my panic because she says, "They're both in casts, that's why you can't move them."

I look at her confused, wondering what all has happened to my body.

"Let me go get Dr. Cullen," she stands, reaching over to brush some hair out of my eyes.

I watch her leave the room, trying to pull myself up to a sitting position. I realize that my previously injured arm is now in a cast. Guess it was broken. My other arm has needles and tubes sticking out of it, probably best not to mess with that.

"Bella, you're awake," Dr. Cullen walks in, smiling brightly. "How are you feeling?"

"Shitty," I manage to croak out, my throat feeling raw.

He just laughs, looking through his charts and writing something down.

"You're a very lucky girl, Bella Swan," he says, pulling up a chair next to the bed to have a seat.

I don't agree. But I don't say this.

"Where are my parents?" I ask, looking around the room.

There are flowers and balloons everywhere. Who knew driving my truck off the road would be the key to getting back my popularity?

"They're talking to the social worker," he starts. "Lets talk about what happened first, okay?"

I just nod.

"Why were you out driving so early in the morning?" he asks.

"I can't remember," I respond, which is true. Everything is so muddled, how long ago was it even?

"It's okay, sometimes head trauma can cause memory loss," he smiles understandably at me. "Your truck hit a patch of black ice and slid off the road. It hit a ditch and rolled over a couple times. Bella, you were going sixty miles an hour in a twenty-five mile zone."

I shake my head, trying to remember. All I can think of is snow and white.

"You hit your head on the windshield and your legs were crushed when the truck cab caved in," he is looking at the notes on his clipboard. "There was quite a bit of internal bleeding, but we managed to take care of that in surgery."

"Surgery?" I ask, confused. "I don't remember."

"We had to perform emergency surgery once you were brought in," he says. "Once we were finished, we kept you heavily medicated so you could have time to heal."

"How long?" I ask, staring down at my lap.

"Eight days now," he answers, face full of pity.

I look away, I don't want his pity.

"Bella?" My mother's voice enters the room.

I look up at the doorway to see her and my father standing there, both looking like neither of them had slept in eight days. They walk over to me, holding each other's hands.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," my mother keeps saying, over and over again. "We didn't know."

I look at her, confused.

"Bella, there are some things we need to talk about," Dr. Cullen says, before asking my parents to take a seat.

Mom just keeps looking at me, smiling sadly. Dad looks anywhere but at my face.

I want to ask for a mirror, to see what my face must look like. I want to rip the blanket off my legs, to see how useless they are to me now. I want to scream, _why didn't I just die? Was that too much to ask?_

"When you were admitted to the ER, we noticed that there was a significant amount of damage to your body that was not caused by the incident. You were covered in both new and old bruises and your arm was broken," the doctor says, my mind suddenly recalling the conversations I had heard while I was drugged up. "We also found traces of the drug OxyContin in your system, which you've never had a prescription for."

I keep my mouth shut, wanting to hear what they already know. What they've found out in the eight days I've been out.

"Child Protective Services has had several conversations with your parents, and they've determined that the abuse did not come from inside the home," he turns to both of my parents, smiling at them.

Why does everyone keep smiling? What is there to be happy about?

"What can you tell us about Jacob Black?" he asks suddenly, surprise fills me even though it shouldn't.

"What about Jacob?" I ask, playing dumb.

"Bells," Dad speaks for the first time, finally looking at me. "We know what he did."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say, shaking my head. "He didn't do anything."

"Baby, you don't have to be afraid anymore," Mom says, rubbing my arm. "He can't hurt you anymore."

She starts crying, "We didn't know, I'm so sorry. We didn't know."

Dad hugs her, she buries her head in his shoulder. I stare blankly in front of me, everything numb and unreal.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I repeat. I can't tell the truth, I can never tell the truth. Jacob will find out and I will pay for it.

"He has already admitted to everything, he's been taken into custody," Dr. Cullen explains.

I just continue shaking my head. It's like I went to sleep and when I woke up, everything has changed. Nothing makes sense.

"We just need a statement from you, sweetheart," Dad says, his hand rubbing Mom's back in a comforting manner.

My mind is everywhere at once, not making sense of any of this. Mom keeps saying I'm safe, but doesn't she realize I will never be safe?

"Maybe we should give you a bit of time to process this all, it's a lot to take in," Dr. Cullen says, as if reading my mind. "We'll give you some time to yourself."

He leads both of my parents out of the room before turning back to me.

"Is there anything I can get for you?" he asks from the doorway.

"A mirror," I respond numbly.

He looks unsure for a moment, as if he's debating whether or not that's the best idea. What he doesn't know is that I'm use to the bruises, nothing can surprise me. He gives in, walking over and handing me a small, handheld mirror that had been sitting on the side table.

"The swelling and bruising have already started to go down," he says, hesitantly handing me the mirror. "You have made a lot of progress, even in just the past few days."

I say nothing, just nodding, waiting for him to leave the room so I can be alone. I wait a few minutes to make sure no one comes in before holding it up to my face, keeping my eyes closed. I take a few deep breathes before I slowly open them.

The tears start before I even realize it. Everything is blue and black and purple. My lip has a cut along the entire length of the bottom of it. There are stitches in my forehead, a line of them leading from my hairline to the end of my right eyebrow. No one will love me now. Jacob was all I had and now even he has given up on me.

For the second time in less than ten minutes, I wish that the accident had killed me.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Rehab.

That is my parents' answer to my "situation", as they have started calling it. I've seen my chart, I know what they're calling me: "victim", "addict", "suicidal".

I'm so pathetic that even my own parents want to dump me off somewhere out of their sight. Some hellhole in Seattle that is suppose to cure people like me.

"_Sweetheart, we really think this is for the best," my mother had said, the day they had broached the topic of rehabilitation. _

_I was still in the hospital, a week had passed since I woke up and everything was different. I had refused to make a statement to the police about Jacob, refusing to acknowledge that he had harmed me in any way. I couldn't do that to him, not after all that he had done for me. Loved me when no one else did. _

_My Dad had yelled at me, "Damnit Bella, look at yourself. Look at what he has done to you."_

_I still refused. _

"_Bella, we've been in contact with a center in Seattle that has handled cases like yours before," Dr. Cullen had said. "They have the necessary tools to help in your recovery."_

_Recovery from what? Life?_

_Rehab was not really a choice for me to make. My parents made it clear that I had no say in the matter. I wanted to ask them if I could see Jacob one more time before leaving, but I was afraid my father's head would explode. _

The snow is still falling when I wheel myself over to the window in my hospital room. It's Christmas Eve, my parents had stopped by earlier in the day and promised to be back first thing in the morning. The nurses had strung colored lights around my room in an attempt to cheer me up.

Normally on Christmas Eve, my mom and I would spend the entire day baking cookies. Dad would come home from work for dinner and we'd spend the rest of the night watching _'It's A Wonderful Life.'_ I would think how silly of George Bailey for wanting to end his life when there was so much to live for.

Now, in the chilled room with the lights turned off, sitting in this wheel chair, staring out at the falling snow, I understand George Bailey.

There's a knock on the already opened door, pulling me from my thoughts. I can't say that I'm surprised to see Edward Cullen standing there. I think a part of me has just been waiting for him to show up.

"Hey," he says, setting down a small bouquet of flowers on the table.

"Hey," I respond, turning back to look out the window.

There's silence and then I hear him pulling up a chair to sit next to me. We don't say anything for several minutes, both of us just looking out the window at the night sky.

"When I was seven," he finally speaks. "My mom let me stay up as late as I wanted to on Christmas Eve, hoping for just a glimpse of Santa Claus. I eventually passed out in a coma of cookies and milk and she carried me up to my room. I woke to find a letter from Santa, telling me how I had just missed him and he'd catch me again next year. My mom was so excited to show me the letter, I didn't have the heart to tell her I recognized the handwriting as hers."

I laugh, "Esme seems like a great mom."

"No," he says. "Not Esme, my real mother."

I turn to look at him, surprised that he brought the topic of his real family up. I never asked Alice about how exactly the Cullen family was brought together, never having the courage to bring it up.

"She died right before my eighth birthday. That was the last Christmas Eve I had with her," he looks outside, the sadness in his eyes all too familiar to me. It's the same way he always looks at me.

I want to keep him talking, ask how she died, but the look in his eyes stops me. I don't want to be the one who causes that look in his eyes anymore than I already have been.

"My parents are sending me to rehab," I say and I don't know why. He didn't ask.

He nods, he already knew. I wonder if everyone else knows. If all of Forks High is abuzz with the news that Bella Swan's boyfriend beats her and she spends all her days drugged up just to keep surviving.

"I have something for you," he smiles, pulling a small, wrapped gift from underneath his coat.

I look at him, uncertain, as I take the present from his hands. I can tell by the wrap-job that he probably did it himself, which is actually kind of sweet. I rip the paper off, revealing the cover of a DVD.

"'_It's A Wonderful Life,'"_ I say in disbelief, holding it up to my chest, hugging it.

"I overheard your mom talking to my dad about how Christmas wouldn't be the same this year, that you wouldn't be there with them to watch it," he looks away, his cheeks reddening. "I thought we could watch it together, so you wouldn't have to spend the night alone."

Half of me thinks he's being genuinely nice and the other half of me thinks that maybe my parents have sent him here to convince me to testify against Jacob.

For the moment, I choose to believe the half that says he's being nice.

For the moment, I just don't want to be alone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Thank you so much for all of the wonderful feedback, alerts, etc. I truly appreciate getting your thoughts on the story. Please let me know what you think so far. What are your thoughts on what you think should happen/will happen?


	12. New Year's Project

I own nothing _Twilight._

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><p><strong>Chapter 12<strong>** - New Year's Project**

Edward's first letter comes about a week into my rehab.

I'm sitting on my bed when my roommate Rosalie comes walking in, hand full of mail. She doesn't say anything, just tosses the letter at me. Her and I seem to have developed an unspoken agreement in which we only speak to each other if absolutely necessary. I'm curious as to why she's in here, but I know better than to ask. My first night here, she got into a fight with another girl in the cafeteria. It did not end well for the other girl.

She's a tall, beautiful, leggy blonde and I wonder how her life could possibly be that bad. The only thing I've managed to find out about her is that she hates other people, secretly loves daytime soap operas (I once walked in on her intently caught up in an episode of _Days of Our Lives)_, and that she has nightmares so bad, she wakes me up with her screams.

She plops down on her bed, picking up the book she's been reading since I arrived. I gently pick up the letter, my first communication from the outside world. My hand shakes as I open it, not because I'm nervous but because I'm still withdrawing from the OxyContin. They have finally weaned me completely off it, but I still have bouts of nausea that get so bad, I pray for the sweet release of death over having to feel like that any longer.

Edward's penmanship is much better than I would've expected, having grown accustom to the chicken-scratch writing of Jacob and my father.

_January 4_

_Bella,_

_I hope you don't mind my writing you, your mother gave me the address of where you're staying. 'Seattle's House of Hope & Wellness' sounds kind of like a spa. Are you really getting therapy up there or is this some guise and you're actually getting a bunch of massages and pedicures? Sorry, bad joke. _

_Life in Forks in pretty much business as usual, but I figure you've lived here your whole life so you probably know how monotonous everyday is. Happy New Year, by the way. You missed Tanya's party, but I suspect you're not heartbroken over it. Let me summarize for you: Mike Newton puked all over Tanya's mom's new carpet; Angela Weber and Ben Cheney got caught going at it in the laundry room; and around 2 a.m. Alice decided to serenade the entire senior class with her own rendition of 'Bohemian Rhapsody.' _

_Speaking of Alice, she wanted me to apologize to you for not coming to visit you in the hospital. She feels really bad about everything and didn't have the courage to face you. You should really forgive her, Bella. I know she can be annoying and stubborn, but she is one of the most incredible people you will ever meet. And I'm not just saying that because she bought me a burrito from Chipotle and begged me to talk to you for her. _

_Anyway, I'm sorry if I've gone on long enough and I don't even know if you're still reading this even. Don't feel obligated to write back, I understand if you don't want to. I hope all is well._

_Edward_

_Remember, Bella, you are the outline of everything you will become._

It's the most Edward has ever said to me, even if it is in writing. I don't know why he is being so nice to me, why he has clearly gone out of his way to show me that he's thinking of me. For some reason, he feels like he needs to keep talking to me. A part of me thinks he feels responsible for my accident, for not trying harder to keep me from leaving that night. I don't want his pity.

I fold the letter back up, putting it into the envelope it arrived in. I set it in my nightstand drawer.

I don't respond.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

His second letter comes about a week later.

I started group therapy on Monday, a small room of five of us all sitting around in a circle. There's a bulimic, an anorexic, a cocaine addict, Rosalie and me. They all spend the entire hour talking about their problems, their thoughts, their feelings. Rosalie and I sit there in silence, as though we're having our own personal contest over which of us can stay quiet the longest.

The first couple of weeks I'm here, I'm convinced she hates me. Mostly because she hates everyone here and why would I be an exception?

She wakes me up one night, thrashing around in her bed and repeatedly screaming "no" over and over again. I call her name, trying to get her to snap out of it. When she does, she has broken out in a cold sweat and there are tears streaming down her face. I hand her the glass of water from my table. She says nothing, but takes it and gulps it all down, watching my face the whole time.

The next morning she asks me if I want to go to breakfast and then pushes my wheelchair for me to the cafeteria. To anyone else, it might seem like a girl just helping her roommate to get some food. What I realize in that moment is that I am slowly cracking away at the carefully constructed shell she has built around herself.

_January 13_

_Bella,_

_The lake has finally frozen over. Alice insisted on ice skating, because she never got to when we lived in Chicago. She lasted about five second before falling flat on her face and chipping a tooth. It was on a Saturday, so she had to spend the entire weekend looking like that. Every time she said a word that began with the letter 's', she would whistle through her teeth. We were all surprised when Emmett asked to make Sunday night dinner, until we realized he had cooked only foods that began with the letter 's'. Spaghetti, Swedish meatballs, sweet peas, sauerkraut, salad. For dessert: strawberry shortcake with soft serve. It was the most disgusting, hilarious dinner we've ever had. _

_I don't know if Alice ever mentioned it, but we were in Forks once before, years ago. It was summertime then and we were just kids. We only stayed for a couple of weeks, right after the lake house was built. Sometimes I wonder if we ever met then, passing each other on the street. That's silly, isn't it? We would've been so young at the time. It's funny how different the world looks when you're young and everything seems to have so much possibility. _

_It's okay if you don't write back, but I wish you would._

_Edward_

I read over the letter several times, trying to understand it. Why it went from something so happy to such an abrupt, odd ending. As though he realized he was saying too much, revealing too much about himself. How weird that the Cullen family had been in Forks before, so long ago.

I'm confused, not sure what to make of the note. I don't know what Edward wants from me.

I fold the letter back up, putting it into the envelope it arrived in. I set it in my nightstand drawer.

I don't respond.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

A third letter doesn't arrive for another two and half weeks. This letter isn't from Edward, it's from Alice.

Rosalie and I have become partners in crime, the two of us just fighting to survive in this depressing, soul-sucking environment that sells people on the idea of hope and wellness. In reality, everyday is filled with hearing miserable story after miserable story. If I wasn't running for the razors before this, I certainly would've been now, if it weren't for Rosalie.

"If I have to hear Bree talk about 'finding herself' one more time, I'm going to take Dr. Randall's pen and shove it directly into her eye," Rosalie rants as she continues drawing on one of my casts.

I laugh, her sarcastic remarks always funny to me. I find myself laughing more and more everyday, thanks in large part to Rosalie. She is the true friend I never had, who doesn't care about appearances or popularity. She's real and honest and if I have a piece of food stuck in my teeth, she doesn't hesitate to let me know.

"So," she says, suddenly incredibly interested in the tree she's drawing. "Have you thought anymore about testifying?"

I lean my head back against my pillow, closing my eyes. My parents had been up the previous weekend, talking to me about the case that was being built against Jacob. He is guilty, he'd already admitted that. My testimony will just bring more weight to what punishment he would receive. I couldn't do that to him, couldn't be the one who sent him to jail for however long. Couldn't see the look in his eyes as I sat up there, in front of everyone, and described everything he had done to me.

"You know now it was never your fault, right?" she asks, look up at me from the foot of the bed. "I mean, I'm not trying to get all therapeutic on your ass, but the fact that you think that is pretty fucked up."

I look at her, smiling softly, knowing she isn't just talking about me. I can still remember the night she finally told me what happened to her.

"_Get off! Get off!" _

_My eyes flew open, everything was black. All I could hear was the sound of Rosalie in the bed next to mine, crying and moving about. I quickly hobbled over to her bed, having learned how to maneuver myself a little better over the last week or so. I sat, putting both of my hands on her shoulders to stop her movements. _

"_Rosalie," I whispered. "Wake up, wake up."_

_She sat up suddenly, pushing my hands off her. She looked around frantically, as if she thought she was somewhere else. She looked at me, slowly a look of recognition coming over her face._

"_Bella?" she said, pulling me into a hug._

_It was the first time she'd ever initiated any type of physical contact with anyone, let alone me. _

"_It's okay," I hugged her back, the act of hugging someone was foreign to me as well._

_We stayed like that for a few minutes as her breathing calmed and the tears stopped. She pulled away, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands, embarrassed that she had let me see her like that. _

_She never talked about herself, not to me and not in therapy. I was beginning to wonder if she would be a lifer-someone who would spend the rest of her days behind these walls. _

"_I always thought I was invincible," she said, her eyes stared blankly ahead. "My friends and I would do stupid, reckless things. Partying, drinking, drugs. It was a little over a year ago, I was at a party some kid from school was throwing. Everyone was getting smashed, doing lines in the living room, bong hits in the kitchen."_

_She wasn't in the room with me anymore, she was back at that party, reliving that night. _

"_I wasn't going to go, but my friend Charlotte convinced me. She practically dragged me out of my house," she laughed. "Everyone was fucked up by the time we got there, Charlotte immediately started playing catch-up. I went into the kitchen to get a drink."_

_I scooted closer to her, placing my hand on her knee to show her that I was there with her. She wasn't alone._

"_Royce King was the most popular guy at my school. All-state football player, student council president. Everyone loved him," a single tear fell down her cheek. "He came up to me and gave me a drink. I didn't even know he knew I existed. We talked and talked and everything started to get blurry and hazy."_

_She paused, taking a minute to think about her next words. _

"_When I came to the first time, he was on top of me. We were on a bed in a room I didn't know. I started screaming, he put his hand over my mouth and told me to shut up. That I wanted it. Everything went black again and when I came to the second time, the room was completely black. I thought I was safe to leave, but when I tried to move everything spun. I threw up on the floor and then it all went blank."_

_I didn't speak, knowing she needed to tell her story._

"_He raped me two more times that I can remember, it all becomes a blur when I think too much about it. When I finally could move, he had already left. I put my clothes back on and walked home," she became silent and I thought she was done, but then she continued, "No one believed me. I was the crazy party girl and he was the Homecoming King. I had to leave school because the torment became too much. I stayed home, too afraid to leave. Too afraid to run into him at the grocery store or at the movie theater._

"_It was a Wednesday when I decided to kill myself. My parents were both at work. The pills the doctor had given me to help me sleep were lined up in front of me. I took them, one by one, and lied down on my bed, waiting to fall asleep and never wake up. As I drifted off, all I could think was, 'I'm finally free.' My mom came home during her lunch break that day to pick up a USB flash drive she had forgotten. A PowerPoint presentation saved my life."_

_We sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound was the ticking of the clock in the hallway outside our room. _

"_Why are you here? Why don't you just talk to them and get out of here?" I asked the question that had been on my mind for a month now. _

"_Because," she smiled at me, sadly. "He can't get me in here."_

Alice's letter was brief, containing one small paragraph and what appeared to be a burned CD labeled _B Sessions Volume 3. _I set the CD on the bedside table, opening the letter. There, in Alice's loopy handwriting, is a name, a location and a date.

_Edward Masen, Sr._

_Chicago, IL_

_October 24_

There's nothing more. I stare at it, attempting to figure out what she's trying to tell me.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Three days later, Rosalie and I are granted a day pass to leave the facility for five hours, on our own. She protests when I tell her I want to go to the library.

"Seriously, Bella?" she whines. "We get one free day like, once a month, and you want to spend it inside a library?"

"Please Rosie, please. Just for an hour and then we can spend the rest of the day doing whatever you want," I beg, mostly because I need her help getting around anywhere.

"Anything?" she smiles, and I swear I see a glint in her eye.

"Let me rephrase," I start. "Anything that doesn't involve jail time."

"Alright, alright. We can go to the library, but just for an hour. I'm going to be keeping track of time," she taps the watch on her wrist.

We take the bus, not an easy feat when you're in a wheelchair, to the Seattle Public Library, a giant building covered in windows. It's intimidating in size, you could easily fit the Forks Public Library in here at least ten times over. I make my way to the public computers section, choosing one in its own personal cubicle. Rosalie goes off to the magazine rack, probably catching up on all of the fashion trends she's missed out on in the last five months.

My fingers tremble slightly as I type 'Edward Masen, Sr., Chicago' into the Google search engine.

Several results pop up, but the one that sits at the top startles me:

_Business Tycoon Kills Wife, Self_

I click the link, which takes me to an article from the Chicago Tribune.

_(Chicago, IL) A startling tragedy struck the city of Chicago in the late hours of October 24th__. Business Mogul Edward Masen, Sr., CEO of Masen Enterprises, brutally murdered wife Elizabeth before turning a gun on himself. In what appears to have started out as a domestic dispute ended in a murder/suicide. Police responded to a 911 call from a neighbor, who reported shouting and other loud noises coming from the couple's Michigan Avenue apartment at around 6:24 p.m. _

_When they arrived, police discovered the bodies of both husband and wife, as well as the couple's only child, Edward (age 8), hiding in his closet. _

I put my hand to my mouth, gasping at the words in front of me. I click the next article listed.

_Edward Masen, the Man With Two Faces_

_(Chicago, IL) Investigators are beginning to uncover the true story of Edward Masen, Sr. and his hidden life as a verbally, physically abusive monster to both late wife, Elizabeth and surviving son, Edward. _

There's a picture in this article, of a family sitting together at some sort of event. The man and woman are smiling at each other, but the little boy just stares off, blankly. The green eyes and bronzed hair are all I need to see to confirm that Edward Masen, Jr. is Edward Cullen.

When Rosalie and I finally arrive back to the center hours later, I am still in shock. Trying to digest everything, realizing I've never really ever known Edward Cullen. Never given him the chance.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay?" Rosalie asks for the fiftieth time. "You've been acting really weird ever since the library."

"Yeah," I reply, shaking my head. "I just need a nap or something."

"Okay," she doesn't believe me, but doesn't press the issue. "I'm going to go grab a snack in the cafeteria, I'll catch you later?'

"Yeah, of course. I just need to sleep, to clear my head."

We go our separate ways, her to the cafeteria and me to our room. I enter the room, going straight to the table that sits next to my bed. Opening the drawer, I pull out the burned CD Alice had sent along with her note. I put the disc into my player, slipping on my headphones. The CD has only one track. There's muffled silence before the song begins, Edward's voice filling my ears.

_She had a history of killing herself,_

_I had a habit of dying._

_I think she gave me something to live for,_

_I guess I helped pass her time._

_But I had vision of seeing things straight,_

_She had the heart of a liar._

_Well, I never saw her leave me once,_

_But she never felt me beside her._

_And it's cruel but,_

_She's got a good hold on me._

The song ends with a few more strums of his guitar and it's not until then that I realize I am crying.

I roll over to the desk Rose and I share, pulling out a sheet of paper and a pen, and begin writing.

_February 5_

_Edward. . ._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Thank you for all of the reviews, they are greatly appreciated. Please let me know your thoughts on this one.

The song used at the end is Dashboard Confessional's _Hold On. _Chris Carrabba is awesome and I own nothing of his either.


	13. Mad World

I own nothing _Twlight._

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><p><strong>Chapter 13<strong>** - Mad World**

Physical therapy is the best part of my day. I would rather be in any amount of physical pain than discuss my feelings. Pain, I can handle. I am all too accustom to that. But sitting down, in front of a therapist, talking about Jacob or my parents or my life. . .I'd rather have someone yelling at me to put one foot in front of the other. Dr. Moore tells me that I've grown too comfortable in my wheelchair. That I'm using it as a crutch, that I'm not putting the energy into healing. I want to give her the finger, to tell her that putting any pressure on my legs feels like someone poured gasoline all over me and lit a match. But it gets me out of Activity Time, so I go.

"Just keep holding onto the bars, you can do this," Phil, the physical therapist, cheers me on. "You got this, Bella. Keep going."

I want to throw some sort of expletive at him, but I'm using all of my concentration not to fall flat on my face. Building muscle and learning to walk all over again, well it's a lot harder than I originally thought. I imagined it being like riding a bike, you just know how to do it. But my legs won't cooperate, having atrophied a bit in the time they haven't been used.

"I'm. . .trying. . .I. . .can't," each word comes out of my mouth in a gasp.

"Yes you can," he says, waiting at the end of the bars for me, hands out.

I'm not using my legs to move so much as my arms. Wait, scratch that, arm. As the other is still in a cast. I want to yell at him that this isn't fair. I only have one fully-functional limb and he's forcing me to try to use three broken ones. This has to be illegal, some form of inhumane torture.

Rosalie just stands in the doorway, laughing the whole time. It's funny to make fun of the handicapped girl as she tries to walk in a straight line without biting it. I secretly think she likes me in the chair, because she uses the excuse of having to push me around everywhere as to why she hangs out so much with me.

"Just make it to me and then you're done for the day," he adds.

This gives me a boost of motivation to press on. I use my good arm to leverage myself against the two bars, slowly bringing my legs forward. They are now both in air casts, but that does little to help with my maneuverability.

"Keep it going," Rosalie yells from her spot by the door.

I throw a glare her way, only to notice she is actually holding a can of Coke and a bag of popcorn. As though she is watching a movie.

"What the? Where did you get the popcorn?" I ask, incredulously.

"The vending machine," she throws a kernel into her mouth, smiling. "Come on, Gimpy. Move your ass forward."

Phil looks at her disapproving, but doesn't say anything. He likes to stay on all of the patients' good sides. To be the "cool" therapist. I keep my same pace, trudging along slowly.

"Oh what's this?" Rosalie says suddenly, holding an envelope in front of her face. "A letter from a one Mr. Edward Cullen. I wonder what it says. Lets read, shall we?"

"Rose!" I yell, suddenly finding the will power to make it to the end of the bars into Phil's outreached arms.

He helps me over to my chair, congratulating me on a job well done. I ignore him, instead wheeling myself over to where Rosalie stands, letter still in her hand.

"Give me that," I reach up, she holds the letter over her head.

"My dearest Bella," she mock-reads. "I can't live without you, can't breathe until I see your face again."

"It does not say that!" I punch her lightly in the stomach, causing her to double over enough for me to grab the mail from her hand.

"Ow, shit, Bells," she wraps her arms around her mid-section.

"Oh please, it did not hurt that much," I roll my eyes, wheeling myself around her to leave the room.

"I know, but I like to pretend you're stronger than you really are. I want to help boost your confidence," she laughs, taking her spot behind me and pushing me down the hallway.

We enter the media room, which isn't actually much of a media room. Just a few couches spread out and a television, probably older than both of my parents, on a small table against the wall. There's a VCR and a small collection of VHS tapes next to it. Rose and I have probably watched the _Clueless _tape once a day for the past month.

She flops down on the couch, flipping through the channels before settling on an infomercial we've also probably seen once a day for the past month.

I roll over to a corner of the room, wanting privacy to read Edward's letter.

_February 27_

_Bella,_

_I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to respond, I had to go to Chicago for a week to handle a personal matter. It was a wonderful surprise receiving your letter when I returned home. Truth be told, I never thought you were going to reply to me. I don't know what made you change your mind, but I'm glad you did. _

I hadn't mentioned in my letter what Alice had led me to discover, figuring it would be best for him to tell me about his past on his own terms.

_Your roommate sounds. . .interesting. I hope she doesn't wheel you into oncoming traffic one day for her own amusement. _

My letter to him had revealed none of my true thoughts and feelings, instead it was just a description of all the crazy people that are in here with me.

"Bella?" my reading is interrupted by Dr. Moore.

I glance at the clock above her, realizing I've forgotten I have a session with her that should've started ten minutes ago.

"Dun dun duuuunnn," Rosalie chants, not glancing up from the television screen.

I reluctantly wheel myself over to the doctor, following her to her office closer to the front of the building. Her office is full of self-help books, motivational posters, and every other stereotypical psychological tool you can think of. I want to ask her if she thinks that stuff really works. If fixing people is really that easy.

"How are you today, Bella?" she asks, taking her seat across from me.

She has her paper and pen all ready to go, to write down her thoughts on how crazy I am.

"Sore," I state.

"Well, that's not surprising," she says. "Phil says you did great in physical therapy today."

"I could've sat on my ass for the whole hour and he would've said I did great. He has self-esteem issues in which he's afraid of people not liking him," I respond, my own Phil-diagnosis.

She doesn't say anything, but the corner of her mouth threatens a smile. She clearly has reached this same thought.

"Jacob's court date is next week," she cuts to the chase. "Have you reconsidered testifying?"

She asks me this every session and every session my answer is the same, "No, I'm not testifying."

I know that she is growing more and more frustrated with me as the days pass, just as she has been with Rosalie for months. We are uncrackable. She cannot penetrate the barrier we have built around ourselves and it pisses her off, even though she would never admit to it. I wonder if my parents know they are spending thousands and thousands of dollars for me to be here and I am intentionally making no progress.

"You know, Bella, you can't stay here forever," she says, as if reading my thoughts. "Eventually you're going to have to go back out in the real world."

I want to tell her that I'd rather rot here for the rest of my life than ever go back to the real world. The real world is full of hurt and lies and pain. Your own parents could sit across from you at the dinner table every night for six months and not know you were having the shit beat out of you on a daily basis.

"Who is Edward Cullen?" she asks suddenly, after minutes of silence between us.

"What?" I ask.

"You wrote a letter to him a few weeks ago. You've never mentioned him before," she is looking down at her notebook and I wonder if she has the name 'Edward Cullen' written in big letters, reminding herself to ask about him.

"He's just a boy," I answer, brushing the topic off.

"Just a boy. A boy who happens to be the only person outside of here that you've contacted. You don't even actively try to keep in touch with your parents," she says, shaking her head. "You once even refused to see them when they came to visit you."

"That's because every time they come to visit, all they want to do is try to convince me to testify against Jacob. It's exhausting," I respond.

"They just want what's best for you," her voice is confused, as if she doesn't understand why anyone would treat their parents as I am.

"For months and months they ignored every indication that I was not okay. That I was miserable. That I was hurting, both inside and out, and now suddenly they care," I roll my eyes. "Besides, it's not Jacob's fault. His dad hit him, he didn't know how else to handle anger."

"Do you really believe that?" she asks, warily.

I don't answer, instead I just turn to look out the window of her office. It's another rainy day in Seattle, the clouds haven't allowed any sunshine to come through for weeks. I wonder how anyone can live in this area of the country and be happy. Or if they're all really as miserable as I am, they're just better at hiding it.

"Bella?" a voice intrudes on my thoughts.

I turn my head away from the window, expecting to see Dr. Moore's curious face but instead I am looking at Jacob. I close my eyes, but when I open them, it's still Jacob sitting there. I turn to look back out the window, but it's not Seattle I'm looking at anymore, it's Forks.

"Where did you go?" he asks, looking at me like I've suddenly grown a second head.

"Jacob?" I put my hand on his cheek, wondering if he's real.

He just laughs at me, turning to look out the window and I suddenly realize we're in his car and he's behind a steering wheel. I look down at my legs, both covered by a pair of jeans, my Converse shoes on my feet.

"How did I get here?" I shake my head, so confused. Wondering how I got from Dr. Moore's office to Jacob's car in a matter of seconds.

"What are you talking about? I just picked you up from your house," he looks back over at me, his eyes full of concern. "Are you okay?"

I just stare ahead at the familiar road before me, the one that leads to Forks High.

"Are you taking me to school?" I ask, my forehead wrinkling in utter confusion. The movement causes a sudden stinging sensation I don't understand.

"Well, it is Wednesday, so yeah," he replies, as if my question is the craziest thing he's ever heard.

As if just moments ago I wasn't sitting in a doctor's office in a rehabilitation center in Seattle, both legs broken, talking about testifying against him in court. I try to think back, did I leave Dr. Moore's office? Am I dreaming?

He turns into the school parking lot, and when I see the familiar willow tree ahead of us, my heart instantly starts beating faster on its own. He cuts the engine before turning to me.

"You know that I love you, right Bella?" he asks, the look on his face all too familiar. It's the same look he always gave me the day after.

I don't know how to respond. Instead, I slowly pull down my visor, opening up the mirror on it. It takes a second for me to recognize the girl looking back at me as myself. Her hair is hanging limply, her face is hollow. Deep circles line her eyes, the signs that she hasn't had a good night's sleep in weeks. Her eyes are wild and scared.

Then I see it.

The bruise above her right eye, the swell of her bottom lip. And then all at once I feel it, her aching ribs, her wounded shoulder. I don't even have to look to know the deep purple and blue marks that undoubtedly cover her thigh and arms.

"Where is Rosalie?" I ask, my eyes not leaving the face in the mirror.

"Who is Rosalie?"

The panic paralyzes me.

"I don't understand," is all I can say.

"Bella?" his voice sounds distant.

I close my eyes, squeezing them as tight as I can. Ignoring the pain it causes, ignoring Jacob's voice. I focus on my breathing, on taking in air and releasing it.

In and out, in and out.

I open my eyes again, hesitantly, with a growing sense of dread. It is pitch black all around me, everything coming into view slowly, as my eyes begin to adjust to the darkness. I see a desk in front of me, surrounded by bare white walls. Rosalie's slight breathing comes from the bed next to me. The clock on the nightstand reads 3:02 a.m.

My clothes are stuck to me, a cold sweat broken out all over my body. I throw the covers off, seeing that my legs are in the air casts. I laugh nervously, it was just a nightmare. Rose has them all the time. Maybe mine are just catching up with me. No big deal.

I lie back down, making a mental note to ask Rose how I ended up in my bed after my session with Dr. Moore that afternoon.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

I brush the incident off as just a weird dream, not bothering to tell Rosalie or Dr. Moore about my odd experience. The last thing I need is someone thinking I'm one of the crazies, like the girls who talk endlessly about themselves in group therapy.

It's not until about a week later that I actually begin to think that I might actually be going crazy.

I am writing a letter to Edward, finally working up the nerve to respond to his. Trying to ignore the guilt I feel over knowing about his parents, like I've gone behind his back somehow. Although, technically it was Alice who told me, but I don't want him knowing that I know until he feels comfortable enough telling me on his own.

I set my pen down, resting my head momentarily on the desk. I hadn't slept well last night, having been woken up again by one of Rose's nightmares. By the time I got her calmed down, I was so keyed up I couldn't fall back asleep. I shut my eyes for just a moment and a second later, I feel myself unable to breathe.

My eyes fly open and suddenly, I see Jacob above me. His hands are wrapped around my neck, choking me. I fight to breathe, to scream, to yell but nothing comes out. His face is filled with pure rage, his teeth bared. I claw at his arms, trying to get him to let go but it is a wasted effort. My head becomes cloudy, my eyes follow next. A black fog takes over my vision and then, all at once, all of the pain and hurt stop. Everything is white and bright and there are no feelings. It feels beautiful.

And I know that I am dead and that he has finally killed me.

It's dark again when my eyes finally do open. I put my hands up to my throat, still feeling the ache where Jacob's hands just were. Silent tears roll down my cheeks as I look over at Rosalie in the bed next to mine. She is sleeping peacefully, as though I wasn't just murdered five feet away. I wait until my heart returns to its normal pace before I pull myself into my wheelchair. I grab my cell phone, wheeling myself out into the hallway.

I'm calling his number before I even realize it, having memorized the digits he had written in his last letter.

It rings three times before there's an answer.

"Whoever this is, it better be good," Edward's voice grumbles into the phone.

New tears fall down my face as the familiarity of his voice hits me.

"Edward?" my own voice is strained, as though I actually was just choked.

There's a loud banging noise, as though the phone has been dropped, followed by a few choice words on Edward's part. After a bit more fumbling, he speaks again.

"Alice?" he asks, his voice still groggy but sounding slightly more alert.

"It's Bella," I respond, clearing my throat, trying to sound more like myself.

"Bella," he repeats. "Where are you?"

I can't respond, I'm so overcome with emotion that I have to swallow back my tears before I can even attempt to speak. Every time I open my mouth, however, I just start crying into the receiver.

"Hey," he says gently. "Are you still up in Seattle?"

I manage to get out a "yeah" in between sobs. He doesn't say anything, just waits for me to collect myself.

"I'm in therapy and then I'm in Jacob's car and he's talking to me and I can feel the bruises and then I'm back in my bed and then I'm writing you a letter and then he's choking me and I can't breathe and I'm dead," I get it all out in one run-on sentence.

There is silence for a moment.

"I'm going crazy and I don't know who else to tell."

More silence. And for a second, I'm convinced he hung up on me out of my sheer lunacy.

"I'm on my way," he says gently.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Sorry it's been a while, I've been out of town. Next update in a couple days. Please let me know what you think.


	14. Strong Enough

I own nothing _Twilight._

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><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>** - Strong Enough**

I'm not exactly sure how long I've been sitting here, on this bench, watching the snow fall around me. Long enough for my fingers to become numb from the cold. Long enough for my hair to become wet from the flakes. Long enough to know I should've gone back inside an hour ago. I can't bring myself to do it, though. I've never seen the city so quiet before, so still. I wonder if it always looks this way at 3 a.m.

I wonder if I sit here long enough, if the cold will freeze me and I'll become a statue or monument. With a name like, 'Girl in Repose.' Or 'Girl Who Selfishly Made Boy Drive Hundreds of Miles in the Middle of the Night.' I wonder if I'll harden before Edward even gets here and he'll find me on this bench, a shell of a girl that once was.

I don't hear him approach, the snow on the ground extinguishing the sound of his footsteps. I don't even realize he's here until he sits down next to me, wordlessly. Neither of us say a word, instead just look off at the water in the distance. It reminds me of that night on the dock at the Lake Mansion, the night of the accident.

"That was fast," I hear myself saying.

"That's what she said," he responds.

I'm so taken aback, I burst out laughing uncontrollably.

"Sorry," he smiles. "I couldn't help myself."

I wait until my laughter dies down before speaking.

"Thank you, I needed that," I answer, feeling my mood having lightened in the short time he's been here.

"How long have you been sitting out here?" he asks, turning to look at me for the first time, taking in my arm, my legs and the wheelchair.

"A while," I respond.

"Your lips are purple," he's raises his hand to my face, gently placing one finger on my lips.

I feel myself stop breathing, having not been expecting his touch. It instantly heats my lips, a warm sensation spreading over them. We stare at each other and I wonder if he feels it too.

"We should get you inside," he says, pulling his hand away suddenly.

He stands, and begins pushing my chair through the snow that has accumulated. At first I think he's taking me back inside the rehab center, but instead he pushes me towards the parking lot. When we reach his Volvo, he opens the passenger side door and before I have a chance to protest, lifts me into the seat. I buckle my seatbelt as he gets in behind the wheel.

"I saw a little diner as I was driving in, it's not too far from here," he explains, starting the car.

I rest my head against the window, the coolness of it feels good against my heated skin that hasn't stopped radiating from his touch.

"Why did you come here?" I ask the obvious question, the one that's been on my mind since I had gotten off the phone with him just a couple short hours earlier.

He doesn't respond right away and I begin to think that maybe he didn't hear me. The car is filled with nothing but silence.

"Because it was you."

I stare at him, but he doesn't take his eyes off the road.

I don't recognize the diner he eventually pulls into, a small intimate looking building. That's probably because when I did arrive here, I was so drugged up and out of it that I could barely remember my name let alone take in my surroundings.

Before I can even unbuckle myself, he's at my side with the chair, helping me out. He's gentle in a way that I've never experienced. Like he's scared to touch me, like I might break. I wonder if he looks at me and sees his mother, sees the same emptiness that is inside. I don't want to be anyone's charity case.

"I can wheel myself," I say, causing a sudden look of hurt to cross over his eyes. He quickly replaces it with indifference, but it was too late. I had already seen it and regretted putting it there.

"Yeah, of course," he replies, letting go of the chair and walking ahead of me to get the door.

The diner is small, but cozy. The only people here aside from us are a waitress and two men, who sit together at a booth near the jukebox. They all look up when we enter, their eyes going directly to my chair-a look which I have grown more than use to over these past months.

"I can't wait to get out of this thing," I say as we take our spot at a table in the back. "It's like wearing a bright neon sign that says, 'Look at me!'"

"How much longer do you have in it?" he pulls a chair out and sets it aside so I can roll myself to the table.

"Not sure, it depends on how my physical therapy goes. Learning how to walk is a lot harder the second time around, especially when your legs refuse to cooperate," I laugh, but he just looks at me sadly.

"I shouldn't have let you go home that night," he says, and before I can respond the waitress is at our table asking what we want to drink.

I order a coffee and he does the same, avoiding my eye contact the whole time. I keep repeating his words in my head, shocked that I hadn't thought of them in deeper context previously. Thought of the overwhelming guilt he must feel, the responsibility. I've been so consumed in my own misery that I didn't even begin to imagine how he must be reacting to this all.

"Edward," I place my hand over his on the table. "This isn't your fault. I chose to go, I chose to get in the truck, to drive down that road. You didn't do anything and I won't have you racking your mind with guilt because you think you did."

He doesn't anything, just shakes his head in disagreement. The waitress drops off our coffee and I wait until she's out of earshot before I continue.

"Did you know about Jacob? Did you know what he was doing to me?" this question had been on my mind as well, if he saw what was going on when no one else did.

"Not at first," he responds. "The first time I ever saw you was in the school parking lot. You were getting out of Jacob's car and I couldn't help but stare at you. You had this smile on your face, it lit up everything."

He pauses, smiling at the memory. I feel my face grow red, not ever having imagined anything resembling those words come out of his mouth.

"You weren't like any girl I'd ever seen. I was so use to seeing these Chicago girls, with their designer clothes and over-the-top attitudes. They're vicious and conniving and manipulative," he looks down at our hands, mine still atop his. "And then I saw you and there was something about you, so genuine, something in you I had never seen before in other girls. It was very unnerving to me, to be bombarded with these feelings. I resented you for a while."

I think back to our earlier interactions, the snide comments he had made. The way he seemed to be disgusted by my mere presence.

"When I saw you in the bathroom that first day, you were staring at yourself in the mirror, that bruise on your face. It was like I was seeing a completely different girl than the one I had seen just moments earlier. You looked tired and worn out and. . .I don't know how to describe it, something was just very off about the drastic change in character," he pulled his hand away from mine, running it through his hair nervously. "It was like you were the same person, but completely different. I kept trying to figure you out, but every time I thought I was close, it was like you changed into someone else.

"It was that day in the parking lot, when you were with all of your friends and Jacob came to pick you up. You were faking a smile, I could tell. And he had his hand on you, so tight your skin was turning white. No one else noticed it, but I could see his grip. I could see the way your eyes looked, betraying your smile. I recognized that look," he stops himself, and I imagine he's thinking of his mother. "There was so much fear there, so much dread, but what really got to me was the look of resignation. That you had accepted everything he was doing to you, like you deserved it."

I stare down at my coffee, stirring it idly. How funny that I could fool everyone, my mother, my father, my friends. That a relative stranger would be the only person to see right through it all.

"I wasn't sure, at first, if it was physical or just emotional and verbal abuse," he continues. "Then I started seeing the bruises. Alice said you were just really clumsy, but I knew. That night at the party, by my car, I saw the way he was with you. You were different with him, as though you were monitoring everything you said and did. I didn't have to know you to know that something was going on."

I bite my lip, trying to fight back the tears that are threatening to spill over. I had spent so long trying to pretend for everyone. For Jacob, for my parents, for my friends. Everyday became more exhausting than the next.

"When did the drugs start?" he asks next.

I look out the window, at the falling snow. It was coming down faster now, I could barely see the cars in the parking lot.

"I just wanted the hurt to stop," I begin. "Everything hurt all the time. The drugs just made life bearable. I could get out of bed, I could fake my way through the day. I was so numb, but it was better to feel nothing at all than go back to the pain."

I can feel his eyes on me, waiting for me to continue.

"You don't know the things that Jacob has been through," I still can't bring myself to look at him. "Everything that he did to me, his father did to him."

"Bella," he sighs. "You don't see it, do you?"

I shake my head, confusion clear on my face, refusing to meet his gaze, "Don't see what?"

"You're incredible."

I look up at him, so completely surprised I can feel my mouth hanging open. He doesn't even know me, not really. He just sees this girl, so broken, in front of him.

"Edward, you don't know me," I reply to him. "I'm not incredible, I'm not anything. I'm selfish and uncaring and I push people away. Look at Alice. She deserved a better friend than me, fortunately I realized that before it got any farther. The last thing she needs in a small, gossipy town like Forks is to befriend the screwed-up, druggie daughter of the police chief. I'm toxic, I brought out the worst in Jacob and I'll do the same thing to you. Watch, wait. You will see."

I push my chair away from the table, signaling to him that I'm ready to leave. To be done with this conversation and let him go, to be free of any guilt that is tying him to me. He quickly steps in front of my path.

"Alice has spent her entire life buying the friendship of other people, people who took advantage of her generosity. She has never had a true friend, only ones that hung around long enough to get what they wanted from her and then leave," he puts his hand down on the handle of my chair. "You never once asked her for anything, never hinted at wanting some stupid pair of shoes or outfit. You were just her friend, plain and simple. You hung out with her, made her laugh, you have never asked her for anything."

I smile sadly at him, realizing he has mistaken my motives for doing everything.

"I never asked for anything because I never wanted to draw attention to myself. I was so busy trying to make myself as invisible as possible, blend in with the air," I explain. "Alice was safe, because she didn't know me before Jacob. She didn't know how I had changed, who I had been before. You are making me into someone I'm not, Edward."

I needed him to see that I am not this good person he's making me into. I'm manipulative in the worst way; because I'm so good at it that no one would ever realize what I was doing.

"Just stop," he says. "Stop. God, what has he done to you?"

I look at his arms, placed on both sides of my chair, holding me in place.

"This isn't you, I know this isn't you," his eyes are pleading with me.

"You don't know me, you're just trying to rescue me. I'm not worth it. When are you going to realize I'm not worth it?" I'm suddenly aware that our conversation has the drawn attention to the other three people in the diner.

I manage to release my chair from his grip, throwing down a five dollar bill on the table and making my way out of the diner. He is close behind, hurrying to open the door for me. I admit defeat about three seconds into my journey to the car. The snow is so thick, there's so way I can push the chair on my own, my injured arm having grown sore from the effort. He wordlessly comes up behind and takes over, helping me to the Volvo.

"Why did you call me?" he asks, one we're on the road again.

Why had I called him? I don't know. Don't know why my hand had reached for the phone, why my fingers had dialed his number, all without conscious thought. So I say the first words that come to my head:

"You make me feel safe."

He laughs, bitterly.

"You call me in the middle of the night, I drive all the way over here and then you act like this?" he asks, anger lacing his voice.

Good. I am finally getting through to him. He is finally seeing the Real Bella.

"I didn't ask you to come here," I remind him, wondering how our interaction had started out so sweet and ended up here.

I feel traitorous tears on my face, and I turn so he won't see them. I don't know what is going on with me; one minute I'm mad and pushing him away, the next I'm crying and feeling so ashamed that I could be so cruel to someone who was being nothing but nice to me. My head is so full of conflicting emotions, of Jacob's face and Edward's face. The boy who wants to hurt me and the boy who wants to save me. God, I am so fucked up.

"I'm sorry," I finally say. "I just don't understand why you are being so nice to me. Why you have gone out of your way to do things for me, to help me. It doesn't make any sense, you barely know me. I'm just your sister's ex-friend."

He waits a beat before replying.

"I know you, you're Isabella Swan. You listen to Death Cab and get excited about live music. You go out of your way to help the new girl in school, even when you know what it will cost you. You smell like strawberries all of the time. You stare at me in Biology and think I don't notice. You love your crappy red truck, for some inexplicable reason.

"You spent months and months of your life getting hit and kicked because you thought that doing so was helping someone else, helping him with his fucked up daddy issues. You watch _It's A Wonderful Life _every Christmas Eve with your parents. You've spent your entire life trying to please everyone around you with little regard to your own happiness."

I stare at him in disbelief, shocked that he is saying all of this. Shocked that he pays enough attention to me to see all of these things. I realize suddenly that it is I who knows nothing about him, nothing substantial anyway. Aside from my recent discovery about his parents, I know absolutely nothing about the kind of person he really is. What his likes and dislikes are. What he wants to be when he grows up. I also realize how little I know about Alice, always having used the excuse of not wanting to pry. It was all just a ploy to keep myself from getting close to anyone, from letting anyone see what was happening to me.

"You remind me of my mother," he says suddenly, before I have a chance to respond to his previous comments.

I'm not sure how to proceed from here, not sure if he knows that I know. Or if he's just making conversation, telling me why he feels compelled to help me as he has.

"Alice and I have no secrets from each other," he answers my question. "She told me as soon as she dropped the letter into the mailbox. She's never been good at keeping secrets."

All of this information is flooding in, and I don't know how to react to it.

"Is that why you're here?" I ask, suddenly understanding everything. It all clicking in my head.

"What are you talking about?" he hasn't made the obvious connection yet, about why he is so drawn to me.

"Because I remind you of her, because you can save me where you couldn't save her," it's a harsh statement, but one that needs to be stated.

I see his jaw clench as he grips the steering wheel, making his way through the streets of Seattle. It's past 4 a.m. now and the roads are beginning to see the first of the morning commuters.

"At first, yes. I saw someone who reminded me so much of my mother, I saw in your eyes what I had grown up seeing in hers. Every time I looked at you, it was like looking at my mother. Coming into my room after a fight with my father, her face battered, hugging me and telling me everything would be okay," he continues keeping his eyes on the road. "My mother had me to live for, though. She got up everyday for me. After the concert in Seattle, I noticed a change in your eyes. They became vacant, like there was no one inhibiting your body anymore. You had nothing to live for, nothing to continue fighting on for."

I swallow audibly, understanding how true his words were. Having accepted my inevitable death, I had just been waiting for the day it would happen. Nothing else mattered because I wouldn't be around long enough to become too invested. It's why I had let Alice go when I did. That was the true point at which I had given up.

We pull up to a redlight, the snow has let up and the visibility is much better. I can see the rehab center down the street. The sign blaringly reading 'Seattle's House of Hope & Wellness.' I feel like a prisoner, walking to her execution. Or in my case, I guess, rolling to her execution.

"I want to go back with you," I find myself saying. "To testify."

He doesn't answer, instead taking my hand into his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. He doesn't release it, but instead begins gently rubbing the pad of his thumb in small circles on my skin.

"Do you think the nightmares will ever stop?"

Again, he doesn't answer, instead just squeezing my hand tighter. I want to ask if he still has nightmares of that night, of his father killing his mother. If no amount of time will ever erase those moments in his mind.

"Lie to me, I promise I'll believe."

"Yes," he replies softly.

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><p><strong>AN: **Let me know what you all think.

Also, anyone interested in making a banner for the story? I suck anything relating to computers and art. PM and let me know if you are.


	15. AN

**A/N: **Don't hate me! Not a new chapter yet, but I just wanted to let you guys know I have began another fic that is definitely lighter in tone than this, _Stay or Leave. _

www (dot) fanfiction (dot) net / s / 7180473 / 1 / Stay_or_Leave

I am not abandoning this story, I was just struck with some inspiration and wanted to write it out before I lost it. I will be updating both stories alternatively.


	16. Good Enough

Hey all, thank you for your patience. I have not abandoned this story, I promise. I am in the process of moving across the country and it's kind of a pain in the ass.

I own nothing _Twilight._

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><p><strong>Chapter 15 <strong>**- Good Enough**

The court room is nearly packed to capacity. I'd never anticipated that this many people would show up. Faces everywhere. My parents. My friends. People from school that have never said one word to me. Mrs. Gardner from across the street. This is the biggest thing to happen to Forks since. . .well, probably ever. This is one of the things I had been dreading, the attention.

I guess in Seattle I was in my own personal bubble, unaware of what was occurring in Forks. The rift that had formed between the pale faces and the Rez clan.

"You may be seated," Judge Stillman says, taking his own position at the head of the room.

Judge Stillman, who use to give me Dum Dums when I was younger and would spend my afternoons hanging around the police station watching my father work. Who watched me go through my awkward adolescent years, when I had braces and pimples. When my father made me stay the night in the only jail cell in Forks, because I had come home completely shitfaced after a party, to teach me a lesson. Who now watches, as I sit in the back of the courtroom, in my wheelchair, looking anywhere but at Jacob.

My mother sits next to me, her hand in mine. I think the shock of my agreeing to testify still hasn't worn off.

"_I don't want to go in there," I said to Edward, from the passenger seat of his Volvo._

_We were parked outside of my parents' house, it was just passed 8 a.m. We had stopped back at the rehab center so I could grab some things and let Rosalie know where I was going. She had sat on her bed, watching me. Watching us. Not saying one word. I think she felt betrayed, like I was leaving her behind to rot here for the rest of her life. She was angry. She was hurt. _

"_You've gotten this far," he replied softly. _

_I stared at the house, watching the first signs of life as the kitchen light went on. My mother was up now, starting the coffee, making breakfast. Edward sat beside me, silent, watching me. I could feel his eyes on me, trying to gauge what I was going to do. I turned to look at him, our eyes met. His unbelievably green ones, with my boring brown. It hurt to look at him, he was so beautiful. And now I saw him for what he really was: this kind, caring, wonderful boy who wanted to save me. Who wanted to protect me from the things that his mother became. I didn't deserve him. _

"_Hey," he smiled, as if reading my thoughts, "Don't think like that."_

_I looked away, shaking my head. Unable to fathom why he was doing this for me._

"_What is so special about me, Edward?" I asked, not finding the strength to look him in the eye. _

_I think back to when we first met, the boy who was short with me and looked like he absolutely hated me to now, this boy next to me with gentleness in his eyes. _

"_Do you remember the night of Tanya's party?" he asked, his hands were still clutching the steering wheel._

"_Yeah," how could I forget?_

"_When you left with him, I went back to the house. I was so angry with you, for just going off with him and accepting your fate. I needed a few minutes to calm down, before I went back to everyone else. So I walked upstairs and somehow ended up in Tanya's bedroom," he was staring ahead at the empty road before us, "There were pictures everywhere, of her with her parents, her with friends. You were in a lot of them."_

_I thought back to my Pre-Jacob days, when I actually hung out with people. The people I had grown up with. _

"_There was one of you, Tanya, Angela and Jessica at a pool. You guys were probably 7 or 8 in the picture. It was like looking at minature versions of who you all are now. Then another one of the four of you a few years later. You had this huge smile on your face, it was all braces and teeth. It looked like you had just told a joke and the other girls were laughing at you. Then one from some dance, Tanya and Jessica were hugging and you were in the background giving them bunny ears," I laughed at his words, remembering everything he described, "Then, as everyone got older, you started disappearing from the pictures. I saw you in one with Jacob, surrounded by a group of people at the diner. But you weren't that same girl, the one smiling and giving bunny ears. You were just there, as though you were just an observer watching everyone else live._

"_The last one I saw of you was the four of you again, with everyone's arms around each other. But you were standing apart from the rest of them, hugging yourself. I thought maybe you were just cold, but when I looked closer, I saw you were actually trying to cover up a bruise on your arm. And I wondered if anyone else had noticed it, had observed you as I was doing, slowly withdrawing yourself. Becoming less and less of the person you once were. After that, you were gone from the pictures completely," he finally turned to look at me, "I saw the girl that you were. I didn't even have to meet you to know that you could light up an entire room just by entering it."_

_I blushed at his words, the sweet things he was saying. I had never had someone pay so much attention to me. Everyone had always been so busy with their own lives that I was literally dying right in front of them, yet no one ever noticed. _

_He reached over, his thumb sliding across my cheek to wipe away a tear I didn't realize I had shed. His touch burned my skin, but it didn't hurt like it did when Jacob touched me. Edward was leaving a mark, but this one was on my soul, not my skin. I reached up, my hand covering his. And I wondered if he felt it too, if my touch caused the same fire within him. _

"_Bella," he whispered, his eyes had lowered to my lips. _

_And I wanted so desperately to kiss him. To see if it would be better than Jacob's kisses. If maybe there did exist a guy out there who wanted to love me and not show that love by leaving bruises. I felt myself leaning closer to him, my eyes now on his lips. We were so close, I could feel his breath mingling with mine. There were traces of mint and tabacco, and I wondered when was the last time he had smoked. _

_Our lips touched so lightly, I wasn't even sure they were actually touching at first. It was as though he was terrified, scared to hurt me. Neither of us moved as we searched each other's eyes. Then, carefully, his lips moved. Cautious, at first, then more deliberately. I fell into the kiss, closing my eyes to enjoy the moment. Jacob's kisses had been hurried, rushed. Edward's was delicate, like he was worried I was going to break. _But you can't break what's already broken_, I wanted to tell him. _

_He was the one who eventually pulled away, gasping for air. Like it had all been sucked out of him._

"_I. . .I. . .," his hand dropped from my face, "I'm sorry."_

_His words felt just as painful as any slap I'd ever received._

"_Don't feel sorry for me," I spat, anger fueling me._

"_That's not what I meant, I just didn't mean to take advantage of you," he rubbed his face, as though trying to rub my kisses off. _

"_I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself," I said, realizing instantly how ridiculous my words were. The girl who let herself get beaten on a daily basis, able to take care of herself._

_He looked like he wanted to say something, but I was too hurt to hear it. I grabbed my bag and made a move to storm out of the car. And then I realized I needed his help with my chair. And getting out of the car. And getting into the house. So much for trying to make a dramatic exit. _

"_Take me inside," I said instead._

_He wordlessly got out, taking my chair out of the trunk and over to my side of the car. We didn't say a word to each other as he helped me through the door. My parents were in the kitchen when we came in, both jumping to their feet when they saw us. _

"_Hi," was all I said before I burst into tears. _

The courtroom is silent when the prosecutor brings out the screen and computer to show the photographic evidence being presented against Jacob. When I finally work up the nerve to look at him, all I can see is the back of his head. He hasn't turned to look at me and I wonder if he even knows I'm here. If they told him that I was going to testify against him.

"The images I'm about to show you are incredibly graphic and if you are uncomfortable seeing such images, I highly suggest you leave the room now," the prosecutor warns.

No one gets up to leave.

A screen is placed at the front of the room and I feel myself holding my breath. I know these will be pictures of me, of when I went into the hospital after my accident. I haven't seen them yet, but I knew my bruises like the back of my hand. I had studied myself in the mirror every morning, memorizing each location, each shape, each color.

I look around the room, everyone's eyes are focused on the screen. Everyone's but Edward's. He sits three rows in front of me, his green eyes are currently boring into my own. We haven't spoken since the day of the kiss, I have been avoiding his calls and texts. Too humiliated to speak with him. He is looking at me, whereas everyone else is looking to see something shocking, something entertaining. Because that's what this is for them. Entertainment for their boring, miserable small-town lives.

"These were taken December 15th, the day Bella Swan was brought into the hospital after suffering injuries from a car accident. This accident, we believe, was the direct result of both physical and psychological abuse Bella experienced at the hands of Jacob Black. All of which, we will prove in our argument against the defendant," the man dims the lights of the room.

The first image on the screen is of my face. I don't remember it being taken, as I was most likely unconscious at the time. There is dried blood matting down my hair, bruises in a rainbow of colors dot the expanse of skin. There are cuts, gashes. It's hard to distinguish what is from the accident and what had been there prior.

"These marks are fresh, caused from the accident," the man says, answering my question. He points to a few of the bruises and the gash along my hairline. "These, however, are aged marks. Dr. Cullen will testify that they were not caused by the accident and, in fact, some date back several weeks."

The next image he brings up is of my upper-body, my chest covered conspicuously. This image causes several gasps from the audience. This is what they were coming to see. You can actually see where the broken ribs are, in addition to a multitude of other injuries. I don't recognize this girl, the one on the screen in front of me. She is so desperately broken.

There are images of my legs, of the broken bones, of the gashes. Of my back, a disntict handprint in the center, which they say matches exactly with Jacob's hand. Of my arms. Every surface somehow marked, as though claimed as property of Jacob Black. How did no one notice this? How could anyone look at me and not see these?

After the pictures are shown, Dr. Cullen is brought to the stand. I listen as he describes my injuries. Of his discovery of my prior wounds. Of my state of mind when I finally regained consciousness. Of my denial. Of my willingness to cover up for Jacob, as though I deserved the beatings.

It seems like hours have passed when I am finally called to the stand. My father pushes me to the front of the room, I can feel my face burning with shame and embarrassment. Last night I had stayed up, planning what I was going to say, but now I'm utterly terrified that I won't be able to get the words out. It is not until I am behind the stand that I fully take in the room. There are no empty seats and quite a few people standing in the back. Jacob is looking down at the table in front of him, refusing to meet my eye. This is the first time we've seen each other since December and I can't help but feel something when I look at him. I feel sadness and pity, but more strongly I feel fear and I have to fight to remind myself that I am safe now. That he can't hurt me anymore.

The longer I look at him, the more my desire to testify dissipates. He looks so small sitting there and it's hard to believe that he was once so intimidating and towerous to me. Maybe he has already suffered enough. Maybe he has paid his penance.

A movement to my right causes me to tear my gaze away from him. Rosalie enters the room, quietly taking a seat next to my parents. The shock must show on my face, as she gives me a reassuring smile and mouths the words, _you can do this. _Like she knows I'm beginning to doubt myself. I take a deep breath, signaling that I'm ready.

"Bella, when did the beatings start?" the prosecutor jumps right in.

I have to think back, time has become so jumbled to me.

"April," I hear myself answering, "Of last year."

"So roughly eight months," he walks out from behind his table, "And what happened that first time, to make him hit you?"

"I had come over to his house, knocked on his door, but no one answered. So I went in and found him in his bedroom," and it's like I'm back there, in that house, in that room, "He was upset over a fight he'd had with his father. They were always fighting. I tried to joke with him, to get him to smile. I didn't even see it coming, just felt the sting after he'd punched me. He apologized right away and told me it would never happen again."

"But it did happen again, didn't it, Bella?"

I nod.

"Every couple of weeks at first, then every few days and then almost everyday. His relationship with his father was getting more hostile and it was just his way of expressing himself," I cringe even as I hear myself say the words.

I can see the look in the eyes of the women in the room. I expect to see disgust and disappointment, but all I see is sadness and tears.

"Can you describe the hits? The progression of them?"

"The first time, it was on my face. And I told my parents I fell. After that he got more careful, to hit me in places that weren't as noticeable. My arms, my legs, my back. It was easier for me to cover these up. I started wearing baggy clothes, long sleeves. I didn't want him to see what he had done, because every time he did it just made him even more upset. Like he couldn't believe that he was capable of doing it all."

"Describe the night of the house party you went to, at Tanya Denali's house," he says.

How did he know about that night? I look at Edward for an answer, but he looks just as confused as me. Then to Jacob, whose head hangs guiltily down. Jacob has told them everything.

"Jacob didn't arrive until later, he had something going on," I start, "I had gone out for some air and had run into Edward Cullen. Jacob showed up and assumed that I was cheating on him with Edward, he was always really jealous when it came to Edward. When we got back to the car, Jacob shoved me against it. The side mirror dug into my spine so hard, I thought I would pass out from the pain. He threw me to the ground and started kicking. I tried to curl up into a ball to protect myself, but he was kicking too fast and too hard. All I could do was take it and hope it would end soon."

I'm talking to the prosecutor, but I'm looking at Edward as I speak. Telling him what I know he wanted to ask me about for months. To know what happened that night when he let me go with Jacob.

"What else happened that night, Bella?"

"Before the hitting started," I pause, unsure if I want to continue, "He forced himself on me. His lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth. And I let him, because I thought it would keep him from hitting me. His hands were all over me, grabbing and rubbing. I thought that if I gave him what he wanted sexually, that it would be enough for him."

"And was it?"

"No," I whisper.

"I'm sorry, could you speak up?"

"No," I say, louder this time, "Nothing was ever good enough."

There's silence in the court room as my words sink in.

"Did Jacob ask you to lie about the bruises? To protect him?"

"No," I blush, "I did that on my own. I thought I was in love with him. He made me think that no one else would ever love me like he did, that I had to deal with it because this was as good as it would get for me."

"And your parents, they never suspected a thing?"

I look over at my mother and father, sitting next to each other. My mother has tears streaming down her face, my father is holding her in his arms. It doesn't hit me until this moment the enormous guilt they must feel, at never having noticed what was going on.

"No, I told them that I slipped on some ice. That I fell getting out of the shower. That I tripped down some stairs. After a while, people just started calling me Clumsy Bella," I continue to look at my parents, "Everyone seemed to forget who I was before Jacob, that I was strong and athletic. And I let them, because it was easier that way."

"Bella, is there anything you'd like to say to Jacob? Now that he's sitting in front of you," everyone's eyes turn to look at the boy, the tan boy sitting there disgraced. The boy I had once thought I loved.

I take a deep breath, realizing this may be the only time I will ever get to speak to Jacob again. To tell him what he has done to me, what he took away. He doesn't look at me, he just continues to stare down at the table.

That's not fair.

"Look at me," I say, "You at least owe me that."

It takes a second, but he lifts his head and brings his eyes to me. He is still as handsome as the day I met him, but I am no longer under his spell.

"You told me when we first met that I deserved the world and that you were going to be the one to give it to me," our eyes are locked, "You lied. You called me beautiful, but when I tried to express that beauty, you called me a whore. You hit me, and when I cried, you hit me harder. You told me no one would ever love me like you did and you were right. No one will ever hit me again under the guise of love. You punched me, you kicked me, you slapped me, you squeezed me. You broke me into so many pieces that I don't know if I will ever be whole again.

"You took away my friends, my family. You made me lie. You turned me into a drug addict, because that was the only way I could handle your love. Everyday I lived was the day I thought I would die. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. All I could do was wait, because I knew one day, you would hit too hard."

There are tears brimming in his eyes, which only angers me more.

"No, you don't get to cry," I feel myself on the brink of tears, "Look what you've done to me! Look what you've turned me into! You took everything, you took it all and now I am nothing."

I can't help the sobs that erupt from me, causing my mother to run over from her seat and wrap her arms around me. The courtroom is silent minus the sounds of my crying. Judge Stillman gives me a few minutes to collect myself before dismissing me from the stand. My mother wheels me past Jacob, his eyes back on the table. Mine never leave him, as though taking one last mental picture before erasing him from my mind forever. We continue on to the doors of the room and as we do, I notice a group of Jacob's friends from the Reservation sitting in the last row. They avoid my eyes as we pass.

"Are you okay, baby?" my mother asks once we're in the hallway.

"Yeah," I wipe my eyes, "I'm fine, I'm sorry."

"Sweetie, don't apologize," she squats down to my level, "You did wonderful in there, I am so proud of you."

I smile at her, kissing her on the cheek.

"I need to go to the bathroom," I say, pulling away.

"Here, I'll help," she moves to get behind me.

"Mom, please, allow me this little bit of dignity," I say, causing her to laugh.

I wheel myself to the bathroom, cursing the chair the entire time. I'm supposedly getting crutches next week, so I can alternate between the two to get more comfortable standing and walking. Not that crutches are that much better, but anything has to be better than this chair.

I stare at myself in the mirror once I'm in the bathroom. My eyes are red and swollen, whether from the tears of today or from last night. Or the night before. Everything runs together now and it's almost like it was when I took the OxyContin. Blurred lines and days feeling like minutes feeling like years. I take several deep breathes, pulling myself together. When I feel confident enough, I exit the bathroom. I wheel back in the direction of the courtroom. As I'm about to turn a corner, I hear voices. Hushed, hurried voices that I recognize.

I wheel closely to the end of the wall, hoping I'm not seen. I peek around to see the group of Jacob's friends standing together, talking. I can't hear what it is that they're saying, but they are obviously angry. I roll myself back, realizing this probably isn't the best time to run into them. It's when I'm wheeling back that I hear two words out of their conversation. Two words that make my heart flutter and fill with fear all at the same time.

". . .Edward Cullen."

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><p><strong>AN: **What did you think of Bella's testimony?


	17. Running Up That Hill

I know, I know. I suck a lot.

Two more chapters and then the epilogue. Thank you for your patience and sticking with me. I promise not to be so long with the last few updates.

I own nothing _Twilight._

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><p><strong>Chapter Sixteen<strong>** - Running Up That Hill**

"Does it feel weird?"

I turn around to face Rosalie, who is standing behind me. She is looking at our reflection in the mirror in front of me. Rose is taller than I thought, I can tell that now that I am able to stand next to her.

"It's weird not having to look up at people all of the time," I respond, bending my knees, testing them.

"I'm going to miss having total control over you and being able to push you wherever I want to," she laughs, "Now that you can walk, I can't wheel you into walls anymore."

I roll my eyes, but can't help the laughter that flows from my lips. I never thought I'd feel this carefree again, so easily able to laugh. I also never thought I'd walk again, convinced that I was doomed to spend the rest of my life in that chair. But, after weeks of physical therapy, I am finally able to stand and walk on my own. I had forgotten how amazing it is to be able to just get up and walk, not having to make special adjustments for a wheelchair.

"You're just sad that you can't use my chair to get us a table sooner at restaurants, it's back to waiting and reservations," I turn and walk back to my bed, to the suitcase setting atop it.

It's so packed full of clothes, I don't think I'm going to be able to get it closed. I don't remember bringing that much with me when I first came here, but then again, I've acquired quite a bit of new things since I've been here. Now that there are no more bruises to hide, nothing to conceal, I've slowly been buying new clothes. Short sleeves, skirts. It only took a couple months of therapy, but I am finally able to wear my old clothes without the nauseating fear that use to accompany them.

"You look good, B," Rose plops down on her bed, happy that I have given in to wearing the wardrobe she helped select.

"You know," I start, "You can always come with me."

"Nah, you know me, I'm a lifer," she waves dismissively.

I bite my tongue, knowing that a lecture is that last thing she wants to hear right now. I haven't been able to convince her to progress her therapy any further, her fear is too deep seeded even for me. I've realized that the only thing I can offer her is my love and friendship, the rest is up to her. You can't help someone who doesn't want it.

"Are your parents picking you up?" she asks, lying back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"Edward," I respond.

"You've been seeing a lot of him lately," she smiles a knowing smile.

It's true. Since the trial, Edward has been coming to see me several times a week. At first I refused to see him, still pissed about the incident in his car. Then slowly, I began to relent. His persistence got to me.

"_Bella?" a head popped into my room._

"_Yeah?" _

"_You have a visitor," Tara, one of the nurses, announced. _

_I knew who it was without having to be told. Edward Cullen. My parents only came on Sundays, other than that, I never got any visitors aside from the occasional Saturday visit from a random classmate. Edward came during the week, usually just a little after school got out. He must've drove like a maniac to get here in the short amount of time it took him. He had begun showing up almost immediately after the trial and kept coming, even when I refused to see him. _

"_Send him in," I replied, feeling the butterflies start in my stomach._

_My body's reaction to Edward terrified me. The way he gave me goose bumps just by looking at me. Like he could see through me. But then again, he's always been that way, always able to see through the bullshit. I just never gave into my feelings for him, to afraid of the consequences from Jacob. The more he came, however, the more I began to see the real Edward. He wasn't the self-absorbed jerk I initially saw him as when he first came to Forks. By now, I obviously realized that he was caring and protective. What I was seeing more and more was the side of him that I imagined few others saw: the sweet, gentle side. The side that brushed the hair out of my face or wiped the tears away when I cried. _

"_I think Nurse Tara might have a thing for me," he said as he entered the room._

"_Yeah?" I laughed, "Why is that?"_

"_Well, she's always really friendly and nice. She steals me orange juice from the cafeteria and also, she gave me her number," he responded, holding up a piece of paper that I assume has the digits on it._

"_Well, yeah, I guess that's all the proof you need," I turned away, standing by the window, taking in the first blooms of spring._

_I felt him come up behind me, the heat off his body radiating onto me. A chill ran up my spine, causing me to shiver. _

"_Cold?" he asked, placing his hands on my arms, rubbing to create warmth._

_I nodded, not wanting him to remove his hands. His hands made me feel safe in a way that I haven't felt in a long time. _

"_I'm not going to call her," he whispered into my ear. _

_I smiled, then quickly removed it before saying, "Why would I care if you called her?"_

"_I don't know why you'd care, all I know is that I'd care if you called some boy," his lips were still by my ears. _

_The smile came back to my lips, and I did my best to hide it from him. I wasn't ready to give myself to him or anyone like that right now. _

"Do you have to go back to school right away?" Rose asks, pulling me from my memories.

"No, not for another week. Dr. Moore told my parents I need a little time to adjust back to my home life before being thrown back in with the wolves," I set the suitcase onto the floor, sitting down on the bed to tie my shoes.

"Are you gonna write to me and tell me what life's like on the outside?" she jokes.

She always does this, says things to make it sound like we're prisoners. I guess to her, she is. Only not to this place, not the rehab facility, but to the secrets she refuses to share, even with me. She's using this place as a crutch, a term I've learned in therapy. She's too afraid to open up and let go, afraid that if she does, she'll lose all control. I never say any of this to her, of course. It's not my place, I'm only here to offer her support when she finally decides to let go and live.

"Of course," I answer her, "I'll still visit too. I'll bring you cakes with nail files baked into them."

She sighs, and I know a part of her wishes she was the one leaving today. I can't even begin to imagine what goes on inside of her head, but she'd probably say the same thing about me.

"Bella?" Nurse Tara steps into our room, "Edward's here."

"_Checkmate!" I yelled, throwing my hands victoriously in the air._

"_When the hell did you learn how to play chess?" Edward grumbled, re-setting the pieces._

"_Edward, I'm in a rehab center. It's either play chess or watch 'Days of Our Lives,'" I replied._

"_Not a soap fan?" he asked, laughing._

"_Well, yeah, but 'Days of Our Lives' comes on at 2 p.m. That leaves a lot of time in between to kill," I shrugged, causing him to laugh harder._

"_You never cease to surprise me, Swan," he teased, reaching up to ruffle my hair. _

_I felt the tingles immediately, the same ones I always felt any time he touched me. I wondered if he felt them too, when he whispered into my ear or put his hand on the small of my back, guiding me somewhere._

"_So," I started, trying to break the tension building up inside me, "How are things going at school?" _

"_You mean, is everyone still gossiping about you?" he laughed._

"_Well yeah," he knew me too well. _

"_They were after the trial, but then it got out that Tanya slept with Coach Carter and that sort of took over the rumor mill," he replied, putting the chess pieces back into place, "I know, you're probably heartbroken at not being the center of attention anymore."_

"_I'll probably cry myself to sleep tonight or start plotting my affair with Principal Danford. I must top her!" I shook my fist defiantly in the air._

_I looked down at the board, resetting the pieces. After a few seconds of silence, I looked up to see Edward staring at me. His eyes were bright green, like emeralds. My breath caught in my throat as his gaze burned into me, and I wondered if he could see the effect that he had over my body. He reached his hand up, bringing it slowly to my face. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin long before he made contact. His finger touched my cheek, gently sweeping the sensitive area underneath my eye. _

"_You have an eyelash," he said, his voice low, deep. _

_Oh._

"_Oh," I blushed, feeling stupid for getting so worked up._

_He held it up to me, lightly saying, "Make a wish." _

I wish you would love me.

_I blew on his finger, the lash floating away. _

"_What'd you wish for?" he asked._

"_I can't tell you, it won't come true," I focused back down on the chess board. _

_I stared harshly at it, angry once again for letting myself feel for him the way I did. I was just a friend to him. I mean, I knew that he cared deeply for me, his actions had long shown me that. But he'd never love me like I wanted him to, he'd seen too much of me. He'd seen how weak I could be, how powerless I could let myself become. He was probably too disgusted to ever let himself have those emotions for me. _

"_Stop," he said suddenly._

_I looked up at him, confused._

"_I can see what you're thinking," he started, "Stop."_

"_How do you know what I'm thinking?" I asked, leaning back in my chair. _

"_Because I know you, Bella," he leaned forward in his chair, "I know you better than you think I do."_

_I just shook my head, not understanding him. He looked around the room, for what, I wasn't sure. There was no one there except the two of us, everyone else probably in the cafeteria or their own rooms. _

"_We're a lot alike, you and I," he turned back to me, "I realized that the second I met you, I could see it in your eyes. The feeling of being lost, of being alone. I'd only ever seen it before in one person: my mother. You are so much like her, sometimes it scares me."_

_He smiled sadly, remembering something._

"_She would've liked you a lot," he continued, "I like you a lot."_

_I stared into his eyes, not understanding._

"_Bella, I like you," he repeated. _

"_I like you too, Edward," I replied, for lack of knowing what else to say. _

"_No," he laughed, "I mean, I have more-than friendly feelings for you. I have for a long time."_

_My mouth must've been hanging wide open, or at least it felt like it should've been. I couldn't understand, couldn't get that the words I had longed to hear were actually being said to me. _

"_At first, I tried to ignore them, because you had a boyfriend," he looked down at the mention of Jacob, "But the more I got to know you, the more I saw of the person you once were. . .I knew that deep down that girl was still inside you. I wanted so bad to be the one who brought that girl back out."_

"_Really?" I heard myself asking._

"_You made it really hard for me sometimes, but I couldn't give up on you," his voice was muddled with emotion, "Not when everyone else already had."_

_I leaned towards him, our bodies drawn to each other. Once again, I could feel his breath on my face. Once again, his eyes lingered on my lips. Once again, we kissed, tentatively at first and then passionately. This time, however, neither of us pulled away. _

"Ladies," Edward says as he walks into the room.

Rose just smiles at us, heading towards the door to allow us a bit of privacy.

"Make sure you say goodbye before you leave," she says, walking out of the room, "Or else I'll put you back in that wheelchair."

I laugh, walking back to my bed to pick up my suitcase. Setting it on the floor, I turn to Edward. He surprises me by being right in front of me when I turn. His arms go to my hips, one on either side. He doesn't say anything, just leans down so that our foreheads are touching.

"I missed you," I whisper.

He smiles, that lazy smile that drove me and every other girl at Forks High insane from the moment he set foot on campus. He brings his lips to mine, they're soft, gentle. Never rough, never forceful.

"Edward," I break the kiss, our foreheads still touching, "You're not going to break me."

The way he looks at me sometimes, the way he touches me, I know that he's so scared of hurting me. He treats me like I'm glass, a fragile little creature.

"I know," he pulls me closer to him, our hips touching.

"Do you?" I ask.

"Bella," the way he says my name always makes my heart beat faster, "We have all the time in the world. I'm just trying to savor every moment."

He moves to sit us both on the edge of the bed, intertwining our fingers. I stare down at them, enjoying the way my fingers look laced with his. The smile on my face is so big and genuine, so foreign to me. My cheek muscles still aren't use to stretching for a grin rather than bracing for a hit. I didn't know it was possible to feel this amount of love with absolutely no fear.

"Hey," he says, lifting my chin with his finger, "I've never had this before, it's new to me. I've spent my whole life trying to keep people out, but you were always different. There was always something about you that scared me, because I knew that if I let you in, it would change me forever. I want to take things slow, not because I'm afraid I'll hurt you-I know that I could never, ever hurt you. You know that, right?"

I nod, a tear sliding down my cheek.

"I'm taking them slow because I want to remember everything, every touch, every kiss," he pecks my lips with his own, "Every smile, every laugh. Everything."

"You're right," I say, resting my head on his shoulder as I lean against him, "We have all the time in the world."

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><p>The epilogue has actually been written since I finished the first chapter, so I just will be filling in the remaining blanks.<p>

Please let me know what you think.


	18. Flightless Bird, American Mouth

**DISCLAIMER:**** If you were happy with the way the last chapter ended, then you should probably not read any further. You can consider that to be the last chapter of this story. If you want to continue onto the ending I have had planned from the beginning, then you can read ahead. Don't say I didn't warn you.**

I own nothing _Twilight._

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><p><strong>Chapter Seventeen<strong>** - Flightless Bird, American Mouth**

I'm not looking forward to going back to school. Although Edward had assured me that the gossip mill was already onto another story-of-the-week, I knew enough about the teenagers of Forks to know that the second I stepped foot into that school, all eyes would be on me.

"Bells?" my father's voice says from outside my bedroom door.

"I'm up," I say back.

"Okay, your mom's making breakfast when you're ready," he says, waiting by the door for a few moments before walking away when I don't respond.

I'm lying in my bed, staring straight up at the ceiling. My legs ache, not use to standing and walking. Dr. Cullen told me that they would probably ache a lot for a few months until they were back to full strength. Then he said they would probably ache in the mornings and at night for the rest of my life, the pain a reminder of Jacob every single time I went to bed and every single time I woke up. I wiggle my toes, wincing at the sharp pain it causes. Slowly, I slide my legs over to the side of the bed, sitting up as I do. My feet hit the cold floor, I shiver as I rise.

"You can do this," I whisper to myself, referring more to going back to school than my abilities at standing and walking.

I find myself in front of my full-length mirror, for the first time since I arrived back at home. I haven't been able to bring myself to look into any of the mirrors in the house. There's too many memories of bruises, of cuts, of scars. All I saw in my head when I thought about looking was Jacob and the girl he created. The girl I have been trying so hard to leave behind.

But now I stand in front of it, finally having the nerve to look at the reflection before me. I'm wearing shorts and a t-shirt, an outfit I hadn't worn to bed in my home for the better part of a year. My skin is a pale, ghostly white. But it is clear. There are no bruises, nothing for me to hide. I can wear whatever I want and not worry about someone seeing my marks, not worry about being punished for wearing something someone thought I shouldn't.

The girl looking back at me, she has been to hell and back, but she has survived. She's still a little too skinny, a little too worn out, but she's going to make it.

"Hey sweetie," my mom says as I sit down at the kitchen table, "I've got pancakes and bacon."

She sets a plate down in front of me, the smell hitting my nose, causing my stomach to rumble. I am still in the process of getting my appetite back, only able to eat a small amount at a time. At first, the withdrawal from the OxyContin caused a constant state of nausea. Then, coming to terms with everything that had happened to me was too overwhelming, all I wanted to do was cry and sleep. Slowly, very slowly, I'm able to eat as the stress melts away, as the fear-the constant fear-dissipates.

"You ready for today?" mom asks, refilling her cup of coffee.

"No, not really. But I guess it's now or never," I smile weakly, taking in a mouthful of pancake.

We sit in silence, the only sound coming from upstairs as dad gets ready for work. Mom reads the paper, glancing up occasionally to sneak a peek at me. She's been doing that since I came home, watching me when she thinks I don't notice. Like I could disappear at any moment.

As I bite into a piece of bacon, there's a knock on the front door. Mom and I exchange confused looks as she stands to answer it.

"Bella?" she calls from the front foyer, "It's Edward."

I stop, mid-chew, surprise filling me. I thought we had agreed to meet in the school parking lot.

"Hey," he says as they both walk into the room.

I blush, looking at him in his jeans and t-shirt before glancing down and realizing I'm still in my pajamas.

"Hey," I say shyly.

"I'm going go to see what's taking your father so long," mom says, leaving the kitchen. How obvious could she be?

Edward pulls a chair over to mine, sitting so close that our knees are touching.

"I thought we were going to meet at school," I hand him a piece of my bacon.

"Yeah," he takes it, but sets it back on my plate, "I need to tell you something."

My heart immediately starts pounding at his words, knowing what he is about to say. We have seen each other everyday since I've been home, he comes over in the afternoon after school. He usually stays passed dinner, watching whatever sports game happens to be on television on the couch next to my father. We talk, we laugh. But he hasn't kissed me again or made any indication that he wants to try a relationship with me. I realize that I'm probably not 100% ready to be with someone so soon after Jacob, but it's like he just wants to be my friend and doesn't know how to tell me. I guess he's finally worked up the nerve to have the friends talk with me.

"What is it?" I ask, staring at my hands, which are placed on the table.

He startles me by placing his own hand over mine. His thumb gently rubs over my wrist, leaving tingles on my skin wherever he touches.

"Ever since the trial ended, I've sort of felt like someone's been following me," he starts.

"What?" I cut him off, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I needed you to focus on yourself, to take care of everything going on with you. The last thing I wanted was to distract you from all the progress you've made," he smiles at me, "You didn't need to spend your time worry about my paranoia."

I stare at our hands, the way they look together.

"There's more, Bella," he goes on, "I talked to Chief Swa-your dad about it, I was kind of embarrassed to take it that far. I only did because someone approached Alice while she was at the grocery store. It was one of Jacob's friends, they were waiting for her out in the parking lot by her car."

"Oh god," my hand goes to my mouth, "What happened?"

"She's okay," he reassures me, "But he said to her, 'We're watching your brother.'"

I look at him, his eyes clouded at the thought of Alice being put into that situation.

"I'm so sorry Edward," I put my hand up to his face, "It's my fault, it's all my fault. Is she okay? Oh god, she must hate me."

"Bella, hey," he scoots closer, "She doesn't hate you. I didn't tell you any of this to upset you, I just wanted you to know. I don't want to keep anything from you."

I can't believe this, I can't believe this is happening. Instantly my thoughts go back to that day outside the courtroom, Jacob's friends all standing together, Edward's name on their lips.

"Edward, you don't know what they're capable of," I keep thinking back to all the time I spent with Jacob and his friends. The way they would wrestle around with each other, someone predictably losing his temper and suddenly everything getting out of control.

They are strong and they are scary. The Reservation has its own set of rules, ones that are blurred and usually are bent to fit a certain agenda.

"No one tells them what to do, they grew up doing whatever they wanted," I explain, "They have no sense of right or wrong, just what will best benefit them."

"It's under control, Bella," he places his hands on either side of my shoulders, "Your dad is keeping an eye on things over at the Reservation, everything is going to be okay. They're just a couple of high school guys that are pissed off because of what happened to Jacob. I didn't even want to tell you because I knew you'd get upset, but your dad thought I should."

I feel it instantly, the gnawing feeling that forms in my stomach. The same one that was there everyday I walked out of school, to the parking lot, to Jacob. The feeling that something bad is going to happen very soon.

"What else is my dad doing? Do your parents know?" I run my hand through my hair, nervously pulling at the ends, "Has he talked to Paul and Seth?"

"Hey, hey," he pulls me out of the thoughts flooding my head, his eyes burn into mine, "Everything is going to be alright."

His eyes tell me that he believes the words, he believes that everything will be okay.

I wish I could believe them too.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Ugh, Mrs. Woods assigned us this major project and only gave us a week to do it," Alice complains as she sets her books down on the lunch table, "Is it summer break yet?"

I smile at her, still easing into the routine of being back at school. Even though it's been two weeks, I'm still getting stares and hearing whispers from other students. It's like they're examining me, trying to find physical evidence of the abuse, bruises that have long since disappeared.

"I wish," I reply, scooting my tray over to her to offer some of my fries, "I'm tired of all my teachers treating me like I'm going to burst into tears at any second. It's like they're afraid to give me homework because it'll cause me to have some sort of breakdown."

She looks at me thoughtfully, I can almost see an idea forming in her head.

"Lets do something fun this weekend," she claps her hands together, excited.

"Like what?"

"Lets go shopping in Seattle! We can get some summer clothes, you know, freshen up our wardrobes," she's talking a mile a minute, "We can even stop in and visit your friend Rosalie that you're always talking about."

While the idea of shopping holds little appeal, it would be really nice to see Rose. It's been almost a month since I last saw her and there's only so much you can get from phone calls. I miss her. A lot.

"Yeah, okay," I agree, "We can do that."

"Awesome! Okay, we can have a slumber party at my house on Friday night and go up Saturday morning," she begins, rattling off the plan she's formed.

My eyes dart around the cafeteria, looking for Edward. He's usually here by now. I can feel my heart start to speed up, my palms start to sweat. I worry about him, every second of everyday. How odd that my body reacts to seeing him the same way it did Jacob, but for completely different reasons. Edward keeps reassuring me that he's going to be fine, but he doesn't know Jacob like I do. What he's capable of, even from the confines of where he's being kept.

Then I see him, entering the lunchroom from the opposite side. He doesn't see us yet, his eyes looking over the crowds of students. He looks distressed, his eyebrows drawn together, face set in a frown. He sees me then, our eyes connecting across the crowded room; he smiles, but I notice that it is forced. His green eyes don't shine the way they normally do when he looks at me, they're clouded, a storm building underneath.

"Hey," he says, as he approaches the table, setting his belongings down before kissing my cheek, "Sorry I'm late."

"What's wrong?" I ask immediately.

"Nothing, why?" he still has the smile pasted on his face, he thinks he's fooling me.

"Edward, I know something is wrong," I cross my arms over my chest, leaning back in my chair.

"Bella," he sits, scooting his chair towards me, "Nothing is wrong, I just forgot to turn in an assignment and had to run all the way to the other side of campus to turn it in."

He looks me in the eye, reassuring me. What he doesn't realize is that when he thinks I've stopped paying attention, he looks over at Alice. The look that the two exchange is clear as crystal: Edward is lying to me. Something is wrong and he won't tell me what it is.

It's not until I enter my last class of the day that I find out what it is. By then, the rumor is in full motion. According to Jessica Stanley, who heard it from Tyler Crawley, who heard it from Lauren Mallory, Edward's car was vandalized in the school parking lot. The words "You're dead" were spray-painted across the hood of his Volvo. He hadn't told me, probably afraid that I'd overreact. There is no way that I couldn't overreact, though. Edward was in danger because of me, because I'd brought him into this.

I had to fix it.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"The water is starting to warm up," I remark as our feet dangle over the dock.

"How can you tell?" he asks, splashing the water as he kicks his legs.

"I've spent half my life on this dock, with my feet in this water," I start, "I know it better than I know myself."

He's silent as he takes this in, the fact that I've been at _his _lake house on _his _dock for years and years, and we've only barely met.

"My father built this house, you know," he says suddenly, "He built it for my mother. She wanted someplace away from the city, away from all of the noise."

I suddenly remember all of the stories I'd been told about the house, about the man who built it only to never be seen again. It's odd that it is just now occurring to me that the man was Edward's father. It makes perfect sense when I think about it.

"We all came up here the summer it was finished," he continues, "My parents, Carlisle, Esme, Emmett and Alice. My mother was Esme's sister, they were inseparable growing up. It wasn't until my mother married my father that they began to drift apart. My father didn't want her spending all that time with Esme, convinced that it wasn't good for her. So she cut her out, only talking to her around holidays and birthdays. I didn't really know Emmett and Alice until the summer we came here to Forks, when my father had the lake house built. It was the first and only time we ever came here as a family. They both died soon after."

His words hang in the air, the pain lingering long after he speaks. The only noise is that of the water below us, lapping against the wood of the dock.

"Edward," I start, my voice low, "We need to talk about what happened with your car."

He sighs, leaning back on his arms, soaking up the rare rays of sunshine that flow through the clouds. Both of us have been avoiding the topic for days now, neither one of us having the courage to speak about it. To put into words the threat that existed, scared to make it all the more real.

"It's nothing," he finally says.

"It's not nothing, your car was vandalized," I put my hand on this thigh, to emphasize the severity of the situation, "First it was verbal threats, now this. What's next? You can't just sweep this under the rug like it's nothing. I know these guys, Edward. I know what they're capable of. Jacob is like their brother, they're willing to do just about anything to defend his honor. And it's not like there's a lot of policing going on over at the Reservation, they pretty much have free reign to do whatever they want, no questions asked."

He doesn't respond, just continues to take in my words. His face reveals nothing, no fear, no uncertainty.

"You can't just do nothing, it'll only get worse," I'm pleading now.

"Bella," he says, turning towards me, "Nothing is going to happen to me. Your dad is keeping an eye on the Rez guys, my dad amped up the security for the house. Everything that can be done is being done."

"You should have someone with you, like a bodyguard or something," I go on.

He laughs, "I think that'd be a tad on the dramatic side."

He's blowing it off like it's nothing, like we are completely safe. He's never seen that look in Jacob's eyes, the one he would get right before his fist would come at me. He doesn't know what it's like to have that look directed at you.

"Your parents, Edward," I say hesitantly, not wanting overstep my bounds, but needing to make my point, "You know what people are capable of."

His jaw clenches at the mention of his parents and for a second, I'm afraid I've gone too far. Instead of yelling, instead of fists and hurt and pain, he just turns towards me and puts his hands on either side of my face.

"I know," he says gently, "Trust me, I know. My father was different though, he was a man with very deep seeded issues. He had years and years of anger built up. These are just boys, angry boys who will be mad for a while and then they'll move on."

I want to believe him, I want to trust what he's saying and relax. But I can't.

"Promise me you'll take extra precautions," my voice quivers with emotion, "I know things between us have always been weird and complicated, but I can't lose you. Not when I finally am here with you, on this dock, at this house. It took me forever to get here."

He smiles at me, that side smirk that I know drives all the girls at school absolutely insane.

"I promise, I will be careful," he leans over and kisses my temple, "For you, I will be careful."

Three weeks pass with nothing. No more threats, no more vandalism. Edward and I begin to settle into our relationship, school goes back to its boring monotony. I begin to feel safe.

And that's when it happens.

"Mom, have you seen my brown flats?" I yell down the hallway from my room.

"What?" she yells back from downstairs.

"My brown flats, the ones with the buckle on them," I lean out my door so she can hear me better.

"They're down here by the front door," she replies, sounding closer to the stairwell.

I give myself one more glance in the mirror, making sure everything is in place. Edward refuses to tell me where we're going, so I can only hope that what I'm wearing is appropriate. I guess you really can't go wrong with a skirt and a blouse.

This past month with Edward has been absolutely wonderful. I've never felt like this before, so secure and safe in a relationship. I didn't know it was possible to have that with a person and not have the crippling fear that accompanied my relationship with Jacob. Edward is everything I never knew I wanted: he's smart and kind and gentle. I realized very quickly that the Edward I knew at the beginning, the seemingly egotistical asshole, was just a front he put up to keep people out. A mask he wore to shield himself from getting too close to someone, from feeling too much.

"Edward's here," mom says, looking through the curtains of the front window, "And he brought flowers."

I smile to myself, slipping my shoes on. I open the door, instantly feeling the warm breeze that Spring brings. My smile gets bigger as I watch Edward shut his door, making his way around the car, flowers in hand. He sees me, our eyes connecting, his own face lighting up in a grin.

And then I hear the gunshot.

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><p>One more chapter and then the epilogue. Thank you for your reviews, I hope that you all aren't going to hate me after this one.<p> 


	19. Meet Me on the Equinox

**DISCLAIMER:** This is the original intended ending to this story. If you don't want to have an unhappy ending, read no further. In fact, you probably should've stopped after chapter sixteen. Either way, you've been warned.

I own nothing _Twilight._

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><p><strong>Chapter Eighteen<strong>** - Meet Me on the Equinox**

**Edward POV**

It sounds like a firecracker going off. Happening so quickly, I don't understand what is going on. One minute I see Bella standing on the porch, her hair blowing around her face, that smile-the one that always makes my heart pound faster. The next, she crumples to the ground, her legs giving out, her face full of shock. I can't understand what's going on, there's loud noise, then there's screaming and yelling.

It's all happening in slow motion at first, I turn my head when I see a blur of movement to my left. There's two of them standing there, one with his arm extended, the gun still aimed in Bella's direction. The other is younger, his mouth formed in a perfect 'O.' Bella's mom stands in the doorway, her shrieks bring me out of my daze.

I run towards the porch, my legs somehow able to propel me forward despite the shock I'm in.

"Charlie! Charlie!" Renee yells, "Oh my god, oh god."

She runs back into the house once she sees that I'm next to Bella. There's so much blood, on the ground, on Bella, on my shirt as I clutch her to me.

"Bella," I say, my voice surprisingly calm, "Bella, look at me."

Her eyes are looking at me, but utterly unfocused. I put my hand over the wound on her abdomen, remembering everything I've ever seen on television about applying pressure to a wound. Her breathing is shallow, there's too much blood, too much blood on everything, everywhere. How can she still be alive?

"Bella," I say again, "You're going to be okay, it's going to be okay."

"Edward," she whispers so low I can barely hear her.

"It's me, Bella, it's Edward," I can feel the blood pumping out of her underneath my hand, the feeling making me more and more nauseas.

She looks over my face, her eyes glazed over. She finally focuses in on my lips, and I know without words what she is asking. I gently place my lips over hers, her kiss is light and weak, but it is there. I move my own against hers, deepening it ever so slightly. I close my eyes, taking in the moment. The moment when I knew with 100% certainty that I was in love with Isabella Swan. I pull away to look at her, her face the palest I've ever seen it. She smiles suddenly, that side smile that always drives me crazy. Her lips move with words I can't hear.

"What?" I ask, leaning down closer to hear what she's saying.

My ear is so close to her mouth, I can feel her shaky breathes on the side of my face.

"Darling understand," she says, barely audible, "that everything ends."

I look down at her, confused, not understanding her words.

"I don't. . .what?" I whisper back.

She doesn't repeat herself, instead her eyes burn into mine as though she is waiting for me to comprehend what she said. She's too light-headed from the blood loss, too delirious to know what she's saying, her words probably just a random assortment of things going through her head.

"Don't talk, you need to save your strength," I keep one hand pressed on her stomach while using the other to wipe the hair out of her face. Her blood smears on her forehead as my hand moves across it, and I finally feel myself lose it.

"They're on their way," Charlie's voice sounds far away, "Jesus."

My own tears are blurring my vision and I can barely see it as Bella closes her eyes for the last time. And takes her last breath. And dies in my arms.

She was right. Everything ends.

**The End.**

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><p>You all probably hate me, but that is the ending I actually wrote for the story after completing the first chapter way back when I started the story. Sorry if it is not what you wanted. There will more explained in the epilogue, which I will post asap.<p> 


	20. Epilogue

Thank you all for those who have stuck with me throughout this story. Much appreciation.

I own nothing _Twilight._

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><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

I park my Volvo along the curb, behind Rosalie's red convertible and in front of Charlie's SUV. The sky is overcast, a perfect setting to match mood of the day. I step out of my car, shutting the door behind me. The noise seems to echo, repeating itself throughout the aisles of tombstones that make up the cemetery. I can see a group of people ahead of me, marking my destination. I don't need them to know which direction to go, however; this place, this destination is more familiar to me than any other. True, I haven't been here in months, with graduation and med school applications taking up the majority of my time, but I'd spent enough hours of my life here to never forget it.

"Glad you could make it," Charlie puts his hand on my shoulder, welcoming me into the circle.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," I smile sadly at him, a hand sliding into my own as I do.

I look over to see Alice next to me, a pair of dark sunglasses over her eyes. She rests her head on shoulder, sighing deeply as she stares down at the ground. Everyone else in the circle follows her gaze; Rosalie, Charlie, Renee, Emmett, Esme, Carlisle, Angela, Jessica. Over the years, the circle has grown smaller but the core parts remain the same. I, myself, finally will my eyes to look down. Down at Bella's tombstone.

_Isabella Marie Swan_

_September 13, 1987 - April 16, 2005_

_Beloved Daughter & Friend_

It's been exactly five years since that day, the day that Bella died in my arms. I can't help but think of everything that has happened since. How each of our lives have changed, but stayed the same in so many ways.

Rosalie is in her third year at the University of Washington, studying Criminal Justice. She lives off campus, with Charlie and Renee. They moved to Seattle shortly after Bella's death, not wanting to be in Forks any longer. Not wanting to feel the pitying stares, the judgment. They took Rose in when she decided to leave rehab, but refused to go back to her hometown.

Emmett moved back to Chicago for college and stayed after he graduated, marrying a girl he began dating his sophomore year. He only comes back for holidays. And every year on April 16th.

Alice just graduated from the Fashion Institute of Design & Merchandising, now working at an internship for some designer whose name I could never remember. She's spearheading their new venture, The Bella Foundation, which focuses on domestic and intimate partner violence, raising funds and awareness.

Carlisle and Esme remain at the Lake Mansion, Carlisle still working at the hospital. Esme volunteers there, as well as helping Alice organize The Bella Foundation. Having known the designer from running in similar social circles, Esme was crucial in getting Alice her internship and inspiring the foundation.

Angela and Jessica both went to the community college in Port Angeles, opening up a coffee shop near the campus a few months before they graduated. Both girls came to me shortly after the funeral, admitting to me that they had known something was off about Bella as her relationship with Jacob progressed. Their guilt consumed them both after her death, resulting in a personality change that I can only say was for the better.

Jacob, having only been 17 when Bella testified against him, when he was put away, was released on his 21st birthday. It was proved that he had no connection to Bella's death, his friends acting on their own accord. He moved to North Carolina after he got out, leaving behind his father, his reputation, his sentence. He works at an auto-body shop outside of Charlotte. He is dating a woman named Theresa, she has a young daughter. I watch him, having hired a private investigator in the area. Going down every couple of months to check on him with my own eyes. Waiting. Waiting for the day he slips up.

Paul and Seth, the boy who shot and killed Bella and the boy who watched, both still sit behind bars. Seth, having not physically shot the gun, received a reduced sentence for testifying against Paul. Paul is serving a life term, with no possibility of parole. I watch him too.

I went with Emmett to Chicago for school, needing an escape from Forks and all of the memories it holds. Coming back every couple of weeks to visit my parents, I often found myself drawn back to Bella's old house. Currently sitting empty, the weeds grown up around the windows. No one wants to live in that house.

I sit on the porch, in the exact spot where she took her last breath. Where the blood flowed out of her small, helpless body. The spot where she had looked at me in those few seconds before the gun went off and I saw her face. I saw the hope in her eyes, the happiness, the freedom she finally felt after being terrified for so long. I saw that freedom turn back to that fear in an instant, when the bullet hit her.

Inevitably, I would leave the porch and make my way the few miles to the cemetery where her body lain in eternal rest. Underneath the cold earth, she laid. And I would find myself wondering, as I do now, what she would be like had she lived. What kind of student she would've been in college. What kind of woman she would've become. What kind of wife. What kind of mother. What kind of lover.

I always wonder what if, what if, what if. But in my head, she will always remain frozen in time. That perfect, beautiful seventeen year old girl. Whose brown hair fell onto her shoulders, covering her eyes as she leaned forward, laughing. Who would look at me like I was her saving grace, when in reality, the whole time, she had been mine.

And always, always her last words haunt me.

"Everything ends."

Forcing me, even with her last breath, to understand that no matter how good or bad things are, they will end. It is inevitable.

I remember her confession to me, that she never thought she would make it to graduation. That she knew, somehow, that she was meant to die young. That no matter how good things were getting for her, she still held onto that fear.

She was right. Everything ends.


End file.
